


You can't fix what has been broken

by Bates



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baby Ben, Death, Depression, Fluff, Happy Ending, High School AU, M/M, Minor Character Death, Slow Build, Suicide, Thoughts of Suicide, Triggers, attempted suicide, hunter!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-04 09:58:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 91,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1775017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bates/pseuds/Bates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>teen!Destiel.</p>
<p>Castiel Novak has just lost his mother, his father is an absent douche bag and his sister may well be the only one that copes with all of it just fine. When the Winchesters come into town, it doesn't mean anything good, but he doesn't know it yet. He's completely blind to the world of monsters.</p>
<p>When his mother rings the bell at five AM one morning, Cas has the worst scare he has had in years. Somebody made a contract at the crossroads, and he isn't the one with a countdown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Empty Hallways

Castiel Novak knew every hallway of their school and could walk them without trouble, even at night. After his mother had passed away, his father Jimmy, had thrown himself into his job. He spent hours upon hours grading papers in his classroom, not wanting to come home to the memories of Amelia. Cas understood, he didn't quite want to go home either. There were too many hidden things that still reminded him of her. His father had told him that it was okay; he could stay at school until he was done grading. Except, his father never seemed to be done.

He roamed the halls when he was feeling especially melancholic, felt the familiarity of lockers and empty hallways. He would never have done it if there were students around. Castiel really wasn’t the most popular person out there, but he wasn’t a complete loner either. Not until his mother had passed away. It was not like he was being bullied, but school had started to suck more and more for him each and every day.

Claire was such a good sport about it. About her brother being absent and her mother being dead; about all of it. His younger sister had stayed with their grandma for more dinners than he could count, but still she never complained about it, not once. He for a change, was the one that complained the most or at least showed the feelings that he kept bottled up. His feelings, they processed as pure anger. Every tear that he should have shed, came out as drunken aggression and fights.

His dad, of course, didn't notice. He knew that Claire did and well, he had told her that it was normal for boys to get angry when they grew up. He had told her the lie without even blinking twice or feeling guilty about it. He guessed that his feelings were too numb to even remotely care about it. Whether that was a side effect of the alcohol or of the grief he felt, he didn’t even know.

He wished that he could just go back to not kidding himself and everybody around him in thinking that he wasn’t angry with his mother for dying. But he couldn’t. He was trapped in this freakshow and there was no way out.

Usually, the hallways were abandoned by five. All classes had long since ended by then and the teachers that didn’t want to stay longer than they needed had left as well. An occasional teacher could come by, or a concierge, but they all knew the situation and cut the Novak’s some slack. Today though, they weren’t empty. He wanted them to be empty, but there was a family walking round. He had first seen them looking around when he left his father’s classroom. It had seemed like there was only was person that really wanted to be there, and it had not been the oldest of the boys.

Now, he saw them again as he passed his usual classrooms. They seemed to be having a tour of the place or something, because he saw the head of the school walking with them. Truth be told, he could care less. The oldest boy looked like he was ready to skip each and every day and the youngest boy was bouncing with energy. His big eyes seemed to be taking everything in with the enthusiasm that only a kid could have.

"Castiel! Good to see you here." _Fuck_.

"Hello headmistress," he said, nodding kindly, or at least trying.

"Could you give me a hand, if your father has decided to work late anyway? These boys, or at least the oldest one, is starting school tomorrow and I need somebody to show him around. I would do it, but I have a meeting in a few minutes."

"I'm afraid I have to go home," he lied smoothly. "My sister has been waiting for me to go back home to help her with her homework." It was a lie that he had told so often lately that it was easy for him. It saddened him that he had gotten used to lying like that, since he used to be one of the most if he had to get out of something. "I'm very sorry headmistress, I would have loved to show the boys around."

 

That only left him the option of going out. He didn't want to be caught hanging around in the halls after he told his lie. He could indeed go home for a change, but knew that he couldn't do that without being questioned by his grandmother. He could always tell one more lie. However, he soon didn't have any other choice than to go home. He would have thought that his sister would go home, but no, of course she was still in the playground at five pm. She supposed to be home at their grandma's at three.

"What are you still doing here, Claire?" he asked her with a smile on his lips. His sister really was one of the only people that he could still stay friendly to, the only people that he could genuinely smile for. "I thought that you would go to grandma's house?"

"I'm waiting," she said, her innocent, twelve year old way. "Somebody came to talk to me, and he promised me he'd come back. He said that he could bring mom back."

"Claire, listen up," he sighed. "Mom isn’t here anymore, she is dead. Whoever that sick fuck was, he cannot bring mom back for the life of him, you copy? He can't bring mom back." He had to bit his lip not to get angry with her. “Are you out of your mind? Do you really think that some random creep would come back? How long have you been sitting here, hours? Goddamn, Claire, I thought that you were smarter than that. Let’s go home, grandma is probably freaking out. Do you have any idea how lucky you are not have dad see you? You would've been toast." He tried his best not to see the hurt expression in his sister's eyes, not to see how she almost hid herself as he stepped into his car and forced her to strap her seat belt in in the back.

During the whole ride home, he couldn't help but think about what his sister had said. Was it really that easy to have her broken now? He could see what the possibility of having their mother back had done to her. He had seen how she had the slightest of smiles on her face, how she had seemed hopeful for once.

"Are you going to tell grandma?"

"Yes," he said firmly, staring at the road. "You can't do something like that and I will not have you go bad. You're only freaking twelve years old."

"You are not my father," she said, the silent and almost broken way that only she could manage. "And you never will be, you got that?"

 

His grandmother wasn’t angry with Claire at all, no; she scolded _him_ for staying out late and not bringing his sister home, like a good brother was supposed to do. She gave him the whole speech; how he was supposed to be there for his sister now that their mother had committed suicide, how is father was already absent, how his sister was already hurting enough.

“You know,” he said to his grandmother before racing up the stairs. “I thought that at least you would get it. How can I go ahead and let her believe that a man would go ahead and come by, telling her that he could bring mom back, when mom doesn’t even want to be back.”


	2. Beer always helps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible trigger: the mention and description of suicide, alcohol (ab)use,

The bar was pretty empty, except for the five people at the bar and two or three at tables. Ellen’s was usually crowded, but it was still early. Most husbands would have dinner before hitting the pub. He wished that he could say the same. He wished that he could say that he didn’t need the drink, but he did. Maybe a little too much. Because he had only turned eighteen a few days ago, he wasn’t legally allowed to drink, but Ellen knew him and his family. She had been at the funeral and ever since he had broken down big time, he was allowed to come in and drink whenever as long as he at least pretended to show his ID whenever a cop was around.

That was pretty much the only positive thing after losing his mother. Everybody was kind and forgiving towards him. He could do anything without really getting into trouble. He didn’t know how his father or any of his other family members felt about him getting his hand on beer as easily as he did, but frankly, he didn’t care enough. He knew that his mother would be hurt by it, Ellen and her had been good friends. But if he had to go by how his family would feel about a lot of things, he was a complete fuck up. They didn’t condone a lot of the things that he did.

 

The Roadhouse was the only place where he could be without people he knew running into him. It had been a place where his mother used to come all the time, it was crowded with her people. That had been the precise reason that his mother had always forbidden him to come there. She was too scared of the other hunters and their influence on him. The joke was on her really, because in the past few weeks, he had barely even said a word to a hunter. Now that she was gone, there was no reason for him not to come here, even if he wasn’t remotely a hunter.

He hid at the back of the pub, where almost nobody could see him and drank his first bottle of beer. He drowned it in two of three big sips, needing the comfort of being drunk right now. Today was a rough day.

How could his goddamn mother do something selfish? There was about nothing that was more selfish than committing suicide, or at least, that was what he thought now. Before, the idea of suicide had seemed something brave. Taking your own life was something that he thought was something that needed a lot of courage and trust in your own abilities. Okay, yes, you hurt the ones around you, but it must be hell to die and know that you were the cause of your death. At least she was brave enough to do something about the crappy life she was supposed to be living with their family.

But he didn’t think the same thing about suicide, not anymore. Not when he had seen her, his mother. Not now that he had seen his mother in the state that she had been in when they brought her in to the hospital and well, worse, how she had been lying when he found her in bed.

He tried to ignore it for the first few weeks, tried to ignore the flashbacks and the memories that attacked him. The blood dripping down on the ground, his scream of horror that had sounded so foreign that it didn’t even feel like it was his scream. And then, there were moments like now. When the rush of memories were just too much, when even seeing Claire or talking to her was too much. Claire was exactly like their mother. The same eyes, smile, voice. The same everything.

Another bottle followed, and possibly another one. He was starting to feel the effect of the alcohol, but only minimal. His muscles started to relax and his mind finally got away from the darkness that it was in a little. His father would never come to his place and for that, he was more than glad. He didn’t even know how he would cope if his father would see him here, drinking illegally without him even knowing about it.

He was deep in thoughts by the time that he could hear Ellen arguing with somebody. “No boy. No twenty-one, no beer, that’s the deal. And your father would kill me if I served you beer.” The boy was clearly annoyed. He slammed down his wallet on the counter.

“Fucking shit town dad dragged us back to.” Cas looked up at those words, curious to whom the newcomer was. Lawrence barely had new people around, and when they came, they rarely were this rude. “I just want a fucking beer.” It was the boy from earlier, the one that he was supposed to be showing around. “Screw what dad said.”

“Give him a beer Ellen,” he said, rolling his eyes. “He just had his Lawrence High tour, that’s enough to traumatize anybody. Just put it on my bill. It’ll be fine.”

“Your mom should’ve seen you kid. She sure as hell wouldn’t have been proud that you are shacking up with hunters.” It wasn’t Ellen talking, but he frankly didn’t care who it was. He knew they were probably just trying to keep him in check. 

“Guess I don’t care,” he snapped back. “Mommy dearest is gone now, so whether she’d like it or not, she can’t do a damn thing about it.” He took the two beers from the bar and nudged Dean forward. “Look, you don’t have to talk to me, but if you want other beers, I’d suggest you stay seated.” Cas had to stop himself from rolling his eyes when the Winchester boy looked at him. “I’m Castiel by the way.”

“Dean. Your mother is a hunter?”

"Used to be,” he said, taking another sip of his beer. It gave him the courage that he needed to tackle what happened to her. “She was a hunter until she died, I guess. She hadn’t really been active since Claire turned eight or so, but still.” He knew that he sounded angry saying it, but he didn’t care enough. There was something that she had done, and that had caused her to have a countdown on her head. In her letter, she had told him, that she had had only a few days left.

 

Dean couldn’t quite figure out the Castiel boy. At school, he had been the one to run off the second that he was asked to do anything for the two of them, but now, he bought him a beer? If this boy was normal, he wasn’t sure why he had ever wanted to be anything remotely normal.

“Your daddy got you on a leash huh?” He could notice the other boy already getting drunk to the point that he had no filters, or maybe he already had none when he was sober, who knew. He had seemed polite enough earlier. “No beer for his boys. I guess that sucks for you.” Dean shook his head. He was not going to start a fight with him, yet. “Or you just don’t listen. I bet you do that.”

“Looks like you could use a leash.”

“Probably,” Castiel said, “but I don’t think that I care anymore. Look, I ain’t exactly mister sunshine here, don’t expect me to. Are you guys here to hunt? Or on a casual vacation?”

“My father is hunting something,” he said, “and we’re stuck at school. Are you a hunter too? Or didn’t your mother want to raise you into it?”

“My mother showed me the basics, like always keep salt around, and taught me how to use a gun, she even gave me one for my eighteenth birthday, but I am not a hunter. She didn’t want me to be one, and I guess I respect that.”

 

Cas did not know how he got home that night. All he knew that he was laying on his bed with a splitting headache and his car wasn’t outside. He wasn’t even sure what had woken him up. The last thing that he remembered was leaving ‘The Roadhouse’ at the same time that Winchester left, somewhere around two. He didn’t have any memory of anything. Just the faint recollection of a lot of beer.

Which was evidently when he heard the doorbell ring. Sleepily, he stumbled downstairs, almost falling over the edge of his pajama pants on the way down. Making a mental note to wear something a little bit more appropriate next time, he opened the door not processing who was standing in front of him.

“What do you want?” he asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “It’s, like four in the morning. My dad isn’t…” His mouth fell open wide. Now that his eyes had focused, there was no mistaking who was standing in front of him. “Mom?”

She looked like his mother. She had the same eyes, the same hair. Without even thinking about it, he reached for the holy water on the bookshelf next to him, picking it up and throwing it in his mother’s face. He was too much like her not to automatically think the worst. He was too much of a hunter’s kid to not know where the demons hide, how everything can be used against you.

“I am not a monster,” she said, a soft and gentle look his eyes. “I swear boy, I am me.”

“You can’t be human,” he hissed at her, “and I don’t know what you are playing at, but I held you fucking dead body in my arms while dad called 911. You are not alive.” And then it got to him. The man of the other day, the man that had talked to Claire.

_“Fuck.”_

He stayed up the whole night while his mother went upstairs after going to pretty much every way that he knew to show him that she was human. Salt, holy water, he did everything that he knew off. He would talk to his sister the second that his sister got downstairs. His mother had once made a deal, and it caused her to die. He wasn’t about to let that happen to his sister. He wouldn’t let it, couldn’t let it happen.

The clock ticked by slow. Cas wished that it would pass by quicker, that he could speak to his sister. The initial shock of seeing his mother has helped the effects of the alcohol waver off, but there was no stopping the headache. Not even the Tylenol that was given to him helped the slightest bit. Eventually, after taking probably one or two too many Tylenols, he fell asleep on the couch.

“Cas? You up? Why do you smell like beer?” He opened his eyes to the sight of his sister sitting on the couch, pretty much using his legs as a pillow.

“Did you make a deal?” He should have been more kind to her, but he didn’t care. He had a headache, almost no sleep and a supposedly dead mother sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and reading the paper as if she had never left. “Did the man come back and told you mom could come back? Answer me.”

"He did come back,” she admitted sheepishly, “but he was lying to me you know. Mom did come back, but he can’t take time away from me. The fool.”

“How long did he give you?”

“Five years.”


	3. Hamburgers and pie

Castiel was nothing short of a wreck that day. The simple act of paying attention to the road whilst driving to school appeared to be almost impossible. He had to pull off the road two or three times because he found himself drifting off into his thoughts. With Claire in the back seat, he didn't want to risk drifting off and hitting another car. He wouldn't see her hurt, not at his account.

It wasn't just the paying attention though, it was the remainders of alcohol in his body too. It still hadn't left his system, he still felt somewhat drunk. What he was sure of was that people could still smell the alcohol on his clothing. He had wanted to stay at home, but his mother had forbidden it. Damn, he was so angry with her, for just showing up like that, for making Claire do what she did.

All of it just felt so wrong. How could his baby sister do something like that? Make a fucking deal. And five years? Five years? Five fucking years was all that they would have together, no more ‘goodnight, Cas’ before bed and no more ‘you smell like beer, Cas’ after he returned from a night of drinking. No longer would she be worried about him. She would be able to turn seventeen, but would never be an adult. She would never even get a chance to legally get drunk, and that all because of their mother. She should get the reward for best mother in the world, because clearly she cared so much.

Somewhere deep down, he knew that it wasn't fair to blame this all on his mother, but she was an easy victim for now. After all, she was the one that made the deal in the first place. If she hadn't died, maybe Claire wouldn't be in this mess right now.

 

Things didn’t get better when he eventually get at school. He missed empty spots to park his car, had to walk the hall three times before he remembered where his locker was situated, had to try another ten times until he remembered the code to unlock it, before picking the wrong textbook and almost running over the Winchester boy – his first name had escaped him for a second – in a futile attempt to reach History before the bell rang.

“Hey, watch it.”

“Sorry,” he quickly apologized, before running off again. It really wasn’t his day and it probably wouldn’t become a good day for him either.

 

After the first few classes of the day, he felt drained and exhausted. There was no way that he'd make it through another afternoon of classes and people complaining. Even though he was completely done, there was nothing that could prepare him for the dread that he felt the second that he walked through the doors of his father's classroom five minutes late and he was forced to attend his father's lesson.

Jimmy stared at him with an expression that lay somewhere between anger and disappointment. Castiel couldn't quite figure out which one of the two it was. Almost every question that had to be asked in class, he was required to answer. If his classmates didn't notice that there was something up between him and his father, they were blind.

He did however do everything to defy him. After about three or four questions in a row, he decided to just ignore his father. He could see how annoyed he was getting, how his cheeks got bright red and his hands started to tremble slightly. Castiel knew that he was pushing his father to his breaking point, he just didn't care enough, not anymore. Jimmy hadn't been there the previous night, when his mother came back, he hadn't woken up from all the noise downstairs. The worst was that he didn't even seem surprised to see his late wife sitting at the breakfast table that morning. Yes, he looked taken a back, but he just went with it.

“Dean Winchester, could I talk to you for a second?” he asked when everybody packed up their stuff. “You too, Castiel. _Now._ ” For some reason, his father seemed to be kinder towards Dean as he was to his own son. Some father he was. But then, that seemed to be the thing in his family. And Castiel had been pushing him to the edge all lesson, that could be that too.

Actually, Cas just hoped that his father would wrap up soon, so that he could go for lunch. Or, well, stay away after lunch. He didn’t want to be forced to stay at school and see how Claire was happy, while she should be anxious and sad. You don’t hear that you are about to die every day, but of course, she didn’t care. She was too immature to handle with it, even though she was only twelve. Castiel was quite positive that she didn't even realize that the demon had actually told her the truth.

“Well, mister Winchester,” Jimmy said, “I heard from my daughter that you brought my drunk son home last night, I have to thank you for that. I don’t know what the ungrateful drunk fool did for you, but I figured that he wouldn’t have said a thank you in his state.” Jimmy fixed his eyes at Castiel for a split second, before shaking his head in disappointment.

“You brought me home?” The words rolled over his lips before he could stop them. That was the last person that he had suspected to bring him home. How did he even know where he lived?

“You don’t get that drunk quite often, do you?” Dean smirked, before shrugging it off. “It’s fine, Mr. Novak. Really.”

“You and I need to talk when you get home tonight Castiel,” his father said sternly, before dismissing the both of them.

 

Castiel was not planning on staying in school for lunch, nor did he plan on coming back after lunch break. That was, until he noticed that Dean was not backing off. They had been walking next to each other in silence for a few minutes now, but neither of them wanted to speak.

"So, what do you want, Dean?" he snapped, stopping mid parking lot. "Or are you just going to follow me around like a goddamn puppy?” He didn't want to snap at the boy, his patience for the day had just been stretched so thin that he couldn't find any, not even for Winchester.

"Look, I just want to talk man," he said, eyebrows raised.

"I just really can't handle any more today, okay?" Cas said, voice softer than he probably should have. "My plate is filled to the brim. So if you are here to give me crap about being drunk yesterday, just leave already. I am so not up for it right now." He stood leaning against the door of his car, wanting to get in and drive off right now. Now that he didn’t have to look at Dean and see how hurt he seemed to be.

"You certainly aren't the nerd that you look to be, Castiel." Dean nodded towards a car a little distance off. "You want to join me for some food? You'll just hit the bar if you don't join me anyway. And, you don't exactly want to drive that thing."

 

Castiel let Dean lead him to a little place out of town. He wasn't used to going out, he had lived in this town for too long, had gotten used to the dusty old town of Lawrence. He couldn't not notice the big smile on Deans lips as he went inside, scooted into a boot and ordered the usual, for the both of them.

"They have the best burgers in miles, Castiel, and you haven't lived if you haven't tried them," he said, beaming. "And pie. Don't forget about the pie."

"Cas." Cas had to bite back a laugh at the boy's words. How could a single person love pie that much? He was about to say something else, but the waitress got back with their food, shutting him up. “And, I do have to thank you, you know, for bringing me home last night.

"Don’t worry, it’s fine. You could barely walk straight, and your sister was worried. So," Dean said, chewing on a fry, "what is up with you anyway? You seem even moodier than yesterday."

"It's nothing, don't worry," he said, cramming the burger in his mouth to stop him from speaking. He couldn't go round telling that his mother was back. If he said what had happened, even Dean would think that he was a freak. A freak for being worried about his mother being back and what it would do to their family. Worried, worried, worried. "Really."

"You talk, I eat," Dean said, nodding towards Castiel, "there is obviously something the matter, Castiel."

"It's Cas," he said, "only my parents call me Castiel, everybody else knows me as Cas. And really."

"Just tell me already." The other boy sounded tired.

"Fine." It came out sharper than intended. "Just, I told you about my mother, yesterday, right? Or didn't I tell you? I was drunk, I don't really remember. Doesn't exactly matter. Now, last night..." He stayed silent for a long time, trying to push back the memory. If he didn't tell it to anyone, it may not be true. Maybe, maybe. "She came back." It was no more than a whisper. "Last night, she knocked on the door around five am. I first thought that I was just loaded, you saw me yesterday. But if it were only that, I would have been so happy, I don't know. Look, you really don't need to listen to this." He shook his head. "You don't have time to listen to me complain." Dean rolled his eyes gain, finishing the last of his fries.

"Sure thing," he said. "So, your mom? I thought that she was dead? Didn't you say that she killed herself."

"She killed herself two months ago." Saying it still hurt him, even though she was back. The words still brought the images to mind. "And I don't know man, she just came back."

"What do you mean? Just came back? Like alive back?"

"Puzzles me," he sighed, "I tried holy water, salt, everything really. I just wish that it was the worst thing though. I mean, if it was just her coming back, that would have been fine with me. It's just that." He shrugged. "Let's just say that my sister is more likely the most stupid twelve year old that I have ever seen."

Dean's eyebrows perched up as he took a bite from the pie that had just arrived on their table. "How so?"

"She made a deal. She has five more years, and then they come and claim her. She made the same dumbass deal that my mother did, only worse because mom chickened out of her deal and pissed whoever it was off pretty bad. My baby sister is never going to turn eighteen, and that is all because some crap woman who pretends to be my mother made a crap deal." He swallowed away the tears that stung in his eyes, embarrassed for what he had said. "And as far as I am concerned, there is no way to get out of the deal. Mom said so. I don't trust mom, so I'm going to look for a fucking cure, but damn.” He hated how he sounded pathetic, how he was almost begging. "Look, thank you for listening, I guess. You really don't have to listen to me complain.”

"You want me to pull some strings?" Dean asked suddenly. "My dad knows some people, owes some people, he might be able to help you out. I can ask him." Out of the blue he felt a rough hand on his arm. "Let me help you." He looked up into Dean's deep green eyes before nodding.

"Thanks."


	4. John is in trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all enjoy the chapter. Feel free to follow me on tumblr (http://prior-beatrice-tris.tumblr.com/), leave kudo's and comments. They brighten up my day. (:

His father’s ‘we need to talk’, talk, had been short and worthless, about how he couldn’t do that again, and if he did, that there would be consequences. He didn’t really care enough about it. Castiel tried to act normal for a few days, days in which he had pretty much just hung out with his sister as much as he could and done his research too.

Every now and then, when they needed to talk, he and Dean would hit the roadhouse, the only place in town where you could talk about hunting without getting locked up in a strait jacket.

After almost two weeks of the both of them looking out for any ideas, both of them were stuck. Castiel was slowly giving up his hopes on ever finding a cure for his sister. It was Dean who kept calling ‘round and kept digging deeper. Cas really appreciated it, but he didn’t know what to think anymore.

That night, he called to see if Dean would be up to get a beer with him. Just a casual beer without work stuff. He just needed a breather, have some kind of relief for a little while, away from all the negativity. Even though he didn’t have to go to school for about two weeks – thank God for that – he worked harder than ever, and not on what he wanted to work on.

His mother had forced him to do chores around the house, and all of that because he had come home drunk one time, about which he didn’t even know the details.

That was what he planned to ask Dean about too. What he had done that night to get everybody that upset with him. Had he insulted somebody or what? Why would nobody tell him anything about it?

It was more than just frustrating not to know a single thing about that night. All he remembered was walking out and waking up in his bed, nothing between the two. He just hoped, for his own sake, that he hadn't done anything stupid.

 

Dean met him in front of his house at eight o'clock. Normally, the two of them would have met at the roadhouse, but since he was sure that his car would not make it there safely, he drove them. That, and he had to drop off Sammy. Sam and Claire had become friends in the time that they were put together while the 'grown-ups' talked business. They had been forced to do that often enough, since their father was off to somewhere and was already not answering his calls.

Usually, he didn't exactly mind that he had to look after the kid. He pretty much looked after himself, but he felt kinda guilty for not spending any time with him the past few days. Sammy was still his baby brother and he had promised that he would take care of him.

"Thanks for letting Sammy stay over," Dean said to Cas as they pulled off the driveway. Cas shrugged, staring out the window as the houses rolled by. He noticed how Cas seemed to be getting more tense and worried as each day passed by. He could see how much paler the boy was getting and how he would startle at the lightest touch.

"He and Claire get by fine, mom will probably give them food until they pass out anyway." For some reason, Cas seemed to be extra moody today. "Don't worry about that. You won't even be able to get him home."

"Your mom doesn't like me that much, does she?" He couldn't help but notice how hostile that she was acting towards him. She was a sweetheart to Sam, but to Dean? No way that that was kind.

"You are everything that can take me off the right path," he shrugged. "You know. Hunter, boy, alcohol, exactly. She sees stereotypes."

"Don't you usually hang out with guys?"

"I don't really, no." He saw him shake his head. "I'm not exactly mister popular at school anymore since mom happened and well, I never take anybody home, you are the exception to that, I guess." Dean saw how Cas's cheeks flared a bright red. It was about the most human reaction to something that he had shown in days. "I mean, she never meets any of my friends. Now that she meets one, it's a hunter, you go figure."

"Yeah, I guess."

 

Both of the boys stayed silent until they pulled up to the Roadhouse. Castiel was bone deep in thoughts and Dean agreed to leave him be for a little while. He seemed to need it.

Jo had started to give them alcohol without them even having to beg for them, or at least without Cas having to persuade her. He walked over to their usual booth while Dean picked the beers up.

"You'll look out for him, right?" she asked Dean before giving him the beers. "I've had an angry call from his mother last time, telling me that I can't serve him beer anymore. Make sure that I don't have to follow up on her orders."

"All right ma'am," he nodded, before heading back to their booth. He hadn't been that drunk last time though? Maybe two or three beers, but he had not seemed to be drunk at all. Maybe it was just his imagination, or his mother's.

"You'll have to be careful about coming home drunk, dude," he said, before sitting down opposite Cas. "Jo can't serve you any more beers. She still does, but you don't want your mom to pay her a visit."

"I guess," he sighed, staring at him almost confused.

"How loaded were you exactly last time?"

"You really want to know that answer?" he asked Dean, eyebrows perched up. "I'd just spend a complete day with my sister while going through every book that my mother possesses about deals, demons, everything. Do you have any idea how hard it is to hide crap like that from a mother who doesn't even seem to care?" Cas shook his head violently, taking a swig of the beer. "Okay, I was a little drunk. It wasn't even that bad."

"I have absolutely no idea how you’re still alive. But, as soon as I get a hold of my father again, I'll ask him to pull some more strings. Maybe I'll try Bobby. We'll see." He hadn't asked his father about it yet and he really didn't like lying to Cas about it, but he had no other option. "Lemme call him. Just a sec."

 

Castiel watched Dean as he slid out the booth and sneaked over to a calmer corner. He liked watching him act when Dean thought that Cas wasn't looking. He always acted different when he was alone, though he couldn't put a finger as to why.

Now though, he saw the look in his eyes change, big time. From a look that said that he was nervous, to a look of worry. The color drained out of his face within seconds.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Dean said, shaking his head. He emptied the almost full bottle of beer in three big sips, "it's fine, something came up. Do you mind finishing your beer? I'll drop you off at home before I leave. I'll have to find Sammy a place to stay." To Cas, it was clear that something wasn't right at all, yet, he didn't want to push his luck by asking him what was wrong. He knew that Dean wouldn't explode if he asked, but there always was a chance that it would trigger something. Cas wasn't going to take a chance at that.

"If you want, he can crash at our place?" Castiel suggested. "Until you get back? It'd be good for Claire to have some people her own age to hang out with. She thinks I'm a dork anyway."

"That'd do it. Thanks, I guess. Sam is going to freak out when I tell him that he has to stay home, but I can't take the kid."

"Want to tell me what is wrong?" he asked, trying his luck. "Maybe I can help?" He always felt braver when he had had a beer, and that wasn't exactly the fact that he was drunk. No, he was nowhere near drunk. He'd need a few more beers for that.

"Dad's in trouble. He was hunting some demon. I just got a voice mail, saying that he was in serious trouble. I could hear the demon in the background, so I'm going in," he said, slamming his car door shut.

"By yourself? Dean, I am no hunter, but even I know that this is bound to end bad. What if that demon gets you too? Your father has been doing this for way longer than you have, how do you think that you can go there on your own and just magically win?" Cas shook his head to hide his almost anger. He didn't want to be angry with Dean, but this was a suicide mission. He knew that Dean was reckless, but this was another dimension of reckless. "Tell me if I am mistaken, but this sounds like a suicide mission." ‘I will not have you go on a suicide mission’ he wanted to add, but bit back. He wasn't that drunk.

"Then what do you suggest, Cas? Do you see any hunters around here?" He snapped back at him, clearly getting angry. "I swear, if you say that I should take your mother with me, I am going to punch you so hard that you wake up in your bed three days from now with a concussion." Dean rested his head in his hands. "Sorry, I didn't mean that. I just have no other option, okay?"

"I can come." His voice was soft and silent, but it spiked Dean's interest. "I am in no way a trained hunter, but at least, I can do something." He shook his head. "I want to help, Dean."

"No." Dean shook his head. "Who just told me that this was a suicide mission? Taking you, well, that is the suicide mission."

"Do you have any other options? Because there is no way that I am leaving this car if you are just going to leave on your own." Cas turned around to face Dean, staring at him. Why he had decided to do it, he didn't know, but he did know that it pissed Dean off big time. "You take me with you, or you are not going, period. Only if you have a better alternative, a trained hunter that you can take with that is able to leave tonight, I am leaving you be."

"You are going to be the end of me," he cussed under his breath, before sparking the ignition. "You know this will only piss your mother off more, right? Do you really need that?"

"No," he said, "but I can't leave you alone to go. By the way, I know my way around the basics, I have shot a gun before. I know how to throw a punch. It's not like you will have to drop me off at the nearest hospital when you are done Dean. I don't fall and break." I hope.

"Make sure that I don't regret this," Dean said, before pulling up at the house. "You go pack a duffel bag, I'll persuade your mother that you have to join."

 

Castiel was awfully unsure about what he should bring. He had thrown in the basics, like underwear, jeans, shirts, button ups and a pair of shoes, but wasn't sure if that was all that he needed. Did he need to bring shampoo and all of that stuff? They would probably end up at a motel to spend the night anyway, and they would have towels and stuff, wouldn't they?

By the time he got downstairs, his mother was looking at Dean with a furious expression in her eyes.

"I want to take care of Sam while you are gone, people have done that for me in the early years of my marriage too, when Jimmy wasn't in the picture anymore and Castiel was just a baby, but Dean, no. You are not taking my son hunting. I did everything to protect him from the life, and now you go ahead and pull him right in."

"You shouldn't have died then," Cas snapped, "that way Claire wouldn't have had to make a deal and we wouldn't be tracking down ways to get her out of that deal." He turned to his mother, bag thrown over his shoulder. "We're off. Come on, Dean."

He turned around and walked out the door without looking back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to my dear sister (Mulford) for reading through this chapter for me.


	5. Phone Call

It was a tense drive the first couple miles. Neither of the boys seemed to be able to talk to each other about stuff that they would have easily talked about if the occasion was different. Cas figured that he had said something wrong, or at least done something wrong, but couldn't quite figure out what it was.

He watched the sky change for what seemed like hours, even though it was only a few minutes. Everything not to look at Dean and realize that he had been stupid. Maybe he should have said no, maybe he was too stubborn for his own good.

"Is something up, Dean?" he asked hesitantly. "You have been oddly silent since we left."

"Look," Dean said, as he turned on the interstate. Dean never looked at him, but kept his eyes fixed on the road. "I get it okay, you are pissed at your mom. But I know what it feels like to lose a mother, at least you got to grow up with her around. I would give everything to get my mother back, but that doesn’t solve a thing. You got your mother back, you get a chance to make up for every little mistake you made, every time that you got mad at her without reason, and this is how you treat her? I am not saying that you need to wipe the slate clean, Cas. I am not saying that you don’t have the right to be mad, but she is your family. She took care of you all those years. Sure, she has made her fair share of mistakes, but who hasn’t, Cas? And don’t you think that she is broken up about them. Do you have to pour salt in the wounds, do you have to make her feel worse about it? At least try to be a bit friendlier. Don’t make it worse for her.”

His words silenced Css.

"I didn't know," he eventually said, after running through one thousand possibilities of things to say in his head. "About your mother."

"Well, people don't come with who they've lost written on their heads, do they?" From the corner of his eye Cas saw him shake his head.

"Maybe we should find a place to stay the night," Css said, uneasy. "If we'll keep driving, we'll end up in the hospital."

 

They checked into a motel a little past one AM, both of them exhausted. Cas had driven 'baby' when Dean had hit that point that he could barely keep his eyes open, but it had only been for few miles. He didn't feel comfortable driving Dean's car. He knew how much Dean loved the thing, how he would probably explode if there was as much as a scratch on it. The only reason that Cas was allowed to drive it was because they would have crashed into a tree quite a few times.

"Which bed do you want?" he asked Dean after throwing his duffel on the ground. He was still oddly awake, as if he hadn't even been sleepy a few minutes before. Coffee, Gods miracle worker.

"Any," Dean muttered, before crashing into the first mattress that he could find. Cas figured that he had probably been asleep before his head even hit the pillow. Sighing, he draped the blanket over Dean and headed for the bathroom. He could use a shower now Dean was knocked out enough to stay asleep.

 

It took forever until the shower was warm enough for him to step under it. If he ever had even gotten a chance of sleeping before three, it was long gone. He felt more awake than anything, and well, guilty. Dean's words had made him think about the way he had been around his mother lately and well, what he had said to her before. He now realized how harsh it was and how, well, she didn't have anything to do with coming back. It wasn't her fault.

He knew that his mother wouldn't pick up at three in the morning, but he knew that if he didn't call now, he would probably lose all courage that he had built up. After listening to it ring once, it jumped straight to voice mail.

"Hi mom," he said, after the beep, "it's me, Cas." He was whispering, as to not wake up Dean. "I guess I wanted to call... Dean talked to me, about stuff... Look, what I am trying to say is that I am sorry about what I said." He slid off his bed, the feathers of the mattress creaking from the movement. "I know that I am lucky to have you back." Doesn't cut out that I am still angry with you, so bloody angry. "It's more important that I have you back than that I stay mad at you over something that you couldn't control. Could I just ask you one thing though? Why didn't you ever tell us, mom? We would have understood if you had said that bad things were going to happen. If you..." Cas shook his head. "I didn't call to make any accusations. I'm sorry, okay? I just can’t stop being that what you hate right now, not if being a hunter means that we may have a shot at taking the deal off of Claire." He pressed the red button all too eagerly. Worst idea ever.

 

When morning came around, the bags under his eyes were clear. Cas had managed to sleep for at least two hours, maybe two and a half and that had been with trouble. For the past couple of days, he had tried to sleep more without having to be drunk, but it just didn't work out. Only when he had been drunk, could he get a good night of sleep in, and even then, he felt more than tired.

He was in the bathroom first that morning around eight o'clock, after Dean had started to show signs of life. Cas knew that Dean was nowhere near waking up and probably would stay Mr. Comatose for at least an hour, so he could stay in the bathroom for however long he liked. All of that time was mainly spend trying to tame his hair so it wouldn't get all over the place and forgetting his shirt in their bedroom.

"I see you're still alive," Cas said after pulling his shirt over his head. Dean was sitting up in his bed rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. "Got about time that you woke up. We should hit the road." He knew that he was only cheerful because he hadn't slept, but even if that was the case, it was fine by Cas.

"Remind me to never take you out for hunting, ever again," Dean groaned, before throwing a pillow at Cas and disappearing into the bathroom.

"Clothes, Dean?" Cas said with a smile, before throwing his duffel bag at him.

 

It took him four cups of coffee and a sponsored piece of pie from Cas before he finally woke up enough to drive and hit the road. Dean had agreed to let Castiel drive for a while the other day, but he sure as hell wouldn't leave his Baby with him again. He had probably driven alright - probably, remembering that he had drifted off soon enough - and there were no scratches to the car upon close inspection, but that didn't mean that he would have the privilege of driving again, anytime soon.

At around ten AM, Cas's phone started ringing. Dean noticed how it took him almost until the last ring to pick it up, even though he knew who it was. At first, he stayed silent for a long time, before actually speaking, that though the person on the other end of the line had long since stopped talking.

"We're on the road right now," he said to whoever was talking. "Look, mom, I'll talk to me when we get back, okay? I promise I'll keep you posted. No mom, not if, when. I am not stupid. Dean isn't a newbie."

"Mom?" Dean asked when Cas hung up on his mother and threw his phone in the backseat.

"Yeah," he said, absently, "I called her last night when you were sleeping, left a voice mail. Now, she's worried. Oh, and Sammy wanted me to say hi."

"Figured." He shook his head. "This is why I am sometimes glad that my dad is a hunter. He may not be around much, but at least he doesn't bother me with the 'I am worried about you' crap unless something is really wrong. And even then, it is just Sammy being worried."

 

The miles ticked by. Cas eventually dozed off in the car for a bit, waking up when they were about to hit Ainsworth, Nebraska, the town that John was hunting the demon. The both of them had stayed silent for a while, Dean because he kept an eye on the road and was listening to his music, Cas because he was thinking.

"Look," Dean said, "I have a GPS on my dad's phone. I know that he has that with him, so we have a way of tracking him, but, I don't want you to be doing anything stupid. You are my backup not the one saving me from a stab in the back, capisce? I don't want to have to drive you to the hospital after and face your mothers wrath."

"I'm not that stupid," he said.

"There is one thing that I want you to do, and you can start practicing now." He handed Cas a piece of paper, containing something Latin. "It is a demon exorcism. If I or my father are unable to say these words because of some reason that we will not discuss now, you have to say these words, you understand? Practice them, now. I want to know if you can pronounce them."

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus," started doubtfully, "omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo, draco maledicte. Ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos." He shook his head. "Was that, okay?"

"Pretty good for a first try," Dean said, with a faint smile on his lips. "You may be a good hunter one day, if your mother would ever allow that."

"I took Latin classes for two or three years," he said, blushing, "dad thought that it was important to know at least one dead language. Mom didn't think it was that good of an idea, considering the fact that hunting sometimes uses Latin. Needless to say, mom was wrong."

"Great. You think you could do this later?"

"Yeah, sure," Cas said eyes fixated on the paper. "I'll just practice a little now."

"Let's get going then."

 


	6. Hunter, hunted

After about another hour of driving, they reached the motel where his father had probably stayed. Dean had wanted to go directly to the coordinates of his father's cell, but Cass had said that he wanted to know what they were facing first, before storming off into danger head first.

In the motel though, they barely found anything. Some paper clippings, some info that John had put up, but nothing else. That too seemed to worry Dean. Cass didn't know why that had to worry him, he wasn't exactly accustomed to the usual happenings of hunting, but knew that things were not good if John hadn't been prepared for whatever it was.

"We gotta go," Dean said, "fast." He was holding an old journal that seemed deadbeat. "Dad wouldn't leave all of his stuff here and his door unlocked if he didn't plan on coming back." Cass nodded absentmindedly, before following Dean to the Impala.

 

It was getting this weird habit, driving shotgun in a car without seatbelts. He didn't even reach out for them anymore, didn't even mind anymore. Without them, he could relax and be comfortable without being restricted.

Something about the fact that he didn't have any protection from a crash made him feel a little anxious though. As if he wasn't safe. For the third or maybe fourth time since they had left on their little road trip, the scars along his arms and chest began to itch. He didn't even remember how he had gotten the scars, he only knew that it had been ages ago and nobody remembered what had happened to him.

Cass was awful with not scratching the scars. Time upon time they had itched and time after time he had scratched the skin open and gotten them infected. His mother wasn't all too happy with it, but it was something that he did without even noticing it. It was almost like breathing.

"You okay?" Dean asked him, looking at him in a way that Cass couldn't figure out. Worry? "You're kinda, bleeding? I think you scratched something open with all that scratching you've been doing." He looked up in surprise upon hearing this, seeing the spots of blood well up from the scar at his collar bone.

"Damn," he sighed, before wiping the blood away. "Thanks for pointing it out. I don't notice it when I start scratching the scars." He shook his head.

"Don't worry," Dean said, smiling. "What are the scars from anyway?"

"No idea," he said, toying with the drops of blood on his finger tops, "something happened when I was a kid or a baby or something. It's been a long time and everybody just forgot I guess." He saw Dean pull up his eyebrows in a frown. "I'm thinking that it was something that happened when my mom was hunting with me, you know. I think that she took me with one or two times. But that is just my guessing. She doesn't like to talk about her hunter days with us. I think that she misses it."

Dean didn't know what to think about Cass sometimes. It was almost as if there was a completely different side to him that never showed up unless he was drunk and well, when he was in this mood.

Usually, he was not exactly open with his feelings, he was like this nut that he had to crack. A hard outer layer with a treasure inside. What was needed to crack it apparently was either sleep regression or alcohol. He had woken up three or four times the previous nights and each of those times, Cass had been up. He either had been pacing or staring up at the ceiling. He wondered about the boy, what was really going on with him. Clearly, there was something there that he was struggling with and it wasn't just the fact of his mother.

"You know," Dean said, bringing his eyes back from the scars to the road before he hit something, "if there is something the matter, you can talk to me, right?" He saw Cass nod from the corner of his eyes.

"Yeah, thanks man," he said, "I'm just tired I guess."

"When we get dad out, you go ahead and sleep in," he said, before driving onto the parking lot of the abandoned office building. Something was off about the place, almost as if it was too calm. There were no guards walking around as demons sometimes did, there was no, well, nothing.

 

Cass was the first one to hear the cry in the background. It was a mix of both pain and anger, blood red anger. He was glad that Dean had missed it because it was a fair chance that it had been his father to yell, not some other random demon. Before he even got a chance to stretch his legs, Dean handed him some sort of necklace and told him to put it on.

"It'll prevent you from being possessed," he explained. "You may be able to help me, but I don't want to risk you being possessed. Your mom would be beyond pissed about that."

"What about you?"

"I've got mine tattooed, so I am safe," he said, pulling his shirt away from his collar bone to show the tattoo. "Dad asked us if we wanted one so that we would be safe a little while ago. Sammy hasn't gotten his yet, luckily." He shook his head. "Let's go."

 

The first three floors were abandoned. Cass' pulse was quicker than that of a bird by the time that they came to a fourth floor and heard muttering in the background, faint but present.

"Dad," Dean whispered when they heard a scream echo through the empty walls. It was almost heartbreaking to see how Dean's face sunk completely when he heard his father's shouts, to see how he almost raced forward to get that bastard who decided to keep his father in check.

"No Dean," he whispered, hurrying after him, barely able to stop him from storming in the room. "You want to jump in there? Really? Think about it. Get a game plan before you race in." He shook his head slightly. "What do you want to do, race in and just leave me in the doorway? I have nothing to protect me if that demon decides to jump me." Cass didn't want to turn the attention to him, but if there was a way to stop Dean from rushing in head first, it was needed.

"So you want a weapon huh? Knock yourself out," he said, pulling a knife from his wristband. It was all in a hushed whisper. If they alarmed the demon of their presence now, they would be doomed. "Don't cut yourself." Cass rolled his eyes, but put the knife safely in his pocket, for as far as that was possible. The knife would cut through butter without applying pressure to it, he didn't even want to know what it would do to human flesh. "As for a 'game plan'; I go in and see if I can take on the demon, you linger in the doorway, but keep your eyes open. Don't do anything rash, don't go playing the hero. Help me, but don't be in our way. Dad will not be pleased if you do that."

"Okay." He was getting nervous now, now that they were about to face the demon that was holding John captive. He wasn't exactly sure why he had insisted on coming with, which idiotic idea was good enough for him to go in an idiotic thing like this.

 

Cass lingered in the door as Dean scanned the room where he could see his father quickly before running over to him. He knew hat he ought to go in, but he wasn't sure what his role here was. Not the slightest actually.

"Dad," he heard him say, before running over to the chair where his father was tied up. John's head slumped against his chest, unmoving. "Dad, dad!" Dean looked up at Cass, both fear and pain in his eyes. Cass could barely stand it, watching him suffer. "Help me, please Cass."

He didn't know how fast he knelt next to the chair, cutting through the ropes that held John in three clean cuts. He tried to hide that he felt kind of proud for actually being well, necessary for once and actually being able to help. They balanced the weight of John on the both of their shoulders, wanting to get away with him as soon as possible. The demon could get back any second and if they wanted to get John out of this place alive, they had to move.

That was when Cass was suddenly flicked against the wall, alongside John and Dean. At first, he could barely believe his eyes. The demon was nothing but a little girl, or at least, was using this harmless twelve year old as a vessel. That vessel, it could be Sam or Claire without trouble, he could imagine it without trouble.

"Look what the cat dragged in," she said in a high pitched sing song voice. "More meat. You have a good timing too, I was getting tired of this play toy over here." He could see from the corner of his eyes how both of the boys seemed to be having so much more trouble than he was.

"I see the resemblance there, but you." There was a sly smile on the girl's lips. "I'm trying to figure you out. Now, you see, the other boy I get. Family, blood and all that crap. He's off to save daddy from that scary little demon. You, you are my little puzzle." She smiled a smile that was worthy of the name demon. "I love to play with my food before I kill it, it is so much more, well, entertaining that way, satisfying.

"Why would go off with a hunter when you are still innocent?" the demon continued. "You smell like innocence. Innocence and what else? Let's see. Sleep deprivation is most likely there, how delicious. Is that, alcohol, yest it is. Worry too now huh?" The demon pointed her little finger at him, snapped her finger and let him fall to the floor. Almost out of instinct, he looked at Dean and John, both still stuck to the wall. He could see how much more they were struggling with all of this, how Dean gasped for air like a fish on land. The thing that struck him the most? The panic and hurt in his eyes. It made Castiel want to pull him off the wall and hang there in his place. "Maybe, no, no, that's not it."

"Dean," he snapped at her, cutting her short, "John. You let them go. Now." He sounded braver than he was, even though he wasn't afraid of her. What had caused that bravery, he didn't know. Maybe it was the fact that he had see enough of Dean to know that he was in trouble, big time. He had seen how his lips had started to turn blue.

"Now why would I?" The demon giggled, before sighing. "Why do you worry so much about those two big boys. They can take care of themselves, don't you think."

"You let them go." The words hadn't completely left his lips or he was flung against the opposite wall, crashing head first into the metal cabinets against them. It almost felt as if his head was close to exploding, a pain brushing the walls of his skull. He swore that it almost felt like there was a hand with swords scraping around inside of him. He tasted blood in his mouth, trickling in from his nose. It tasted awful, metallic.

"I mean it," he snapped at her, "you let them go or I will make sure that you will suffer before you go back to wherever you come from." He spat a mouth full of blood at the girl.

"But why?" she sang again. "If I don't let them go, I can tell you how to break that deal that your sister made with the devil." When she saw his stunned face, she laughed again. "Yeah, me and your mom were hell mates, I knew about the deal she made to safe your sorry little ass. Why do you think that you are not plastered against that wall?" Castiel's blood froze in his veins. Could she actually he actually help him? But to what cost? What would he have to do to get that information? Give up Dean and John?

 

He must have stood there without moving forever before he made his final decision. Eventually, one look at the blacked out paced out Dean was enough for him to pick. None that would please either Dean, nor the demon. Dean had allowed him to come with, he had been kind to him. There was no way that he could betray his trust by giving him up like this.

"No." His words sounded strange and foreign from his own lips. "I won't." Darkness was tugging on his vision as his mouth filled with blood again. He wasn't even sure if it was from his nose, the cut on his head or somewhere else too. He could feel the trickle of blood everywhere.

"Excuse me?"

"No. You can't have hi - them." He shook his head viciously. "Whatever deal you are proposing, count it a no." I will not betray Dean for this, he added in his thoughts. "You mention my sister again, and I will make sure that you go to hell screaming."

"You're fond of the Winchester boy," she mused, before snapping her fingers. Cass could hear a heavy thud and one person gasping for air desperately. When he turned his head though, he felt almost disappointed as he saw John Winchester sitting up, confused, looking at his son with sadness in his eyes. "I can see that."

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus," started doubtfully, not sure if he still remembered everything correctly, "omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo, draco maledicte. Ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos." His words grew more fierce and more fierce as he spoke, eyes on Dean and his unconcious body the whole time that he spoke. Somewhere around secta diabolica, John chimed in. They finished the exorsism together and watched as the demon disappeared, shot straight back to hell, where it belonged.

He sat next to Dean, muttering to himself please breathe, please breath as he too felt the stinging pain in his head. Right when Dean opened his eyes, shocked at what he saw in front of him, Cass lost consciousness.


	7. Awkward to say the least

When Cass came round again, he was laying in the back of the Impala, or at least, he thought that it was the Impala. It smelled familiar enough, of alcohol and something else he couldn't quite place. It was a smell that he was used to, one that actually calmed him down a little bit. There was something under his head. It felt cool and comforting, helping him get away the headache. His best guess was that it was a coat, but he couldn't be sure.

He could barely keep his eyes open for more than a few seconds. Even though it probably was night, the slightest bit of light hurt him like nothing else had ever done. His head was still pounding, each heartbeat a painful scratch along his skull. The soft rock music in the background didn't help that fact at all, but the fact that it was turned down was a lot. 

_"Do you think he's going to be okay?"_ The voice sounded both far away and near. It was both barely recognizable as recognizable to him, if only he could place a name to a face. Cass could see the apple green eyes, the light stubble, the shape of his face, his lips in his mind, but a name didn't come, no matter how hard he thought about it.

_"He'll live. What did you think dragging him out with you, kid?"_ This voice was totally unfamiliar to him. Completely unfamiliar.

_"He wanted to,"_ the first voice continued. Cass knew that there was more to this, but he couldn't quite understand what it was anymore. Even though they were talking in English, it sounded like gibberish. He couldn't understand a word that either of them were saying for the life of him.

 

When he came to again, he heard the two voices arguing. He couldn't understand them at first.

_"How do you want him to get into the motel room Dean? The kid's a mess. He'd better stay in the car."_ It was the unfamiliar voice, the second one. It was an unpleasant voice, too harsh to his liking.  _"How are you going to get him into the room anyway? He's not waking up anytime soon."_

_"The kid has a name, dad. Cass has done a lot for me, he deserves a break._ " That voice he knew. It was Dean. Without a doubt Dean. Even though he hadn't recognized the voice before, he did know. Maybe he was really coming back around finally. _"I'm going to keep him asleep for a little while longer. You go ahead and check into your room. I'll get him tucked in."_

Cass felt warm arms wrap under his knees and his shoulders, before the leather of the Impala was gone from under him. He rested his head against the person's shoulder, not even caring who it was. All he knew was that the shoulder was warm and kind, that the person had no problem with carrying him. The calm breathing of the person calmed him down.

_"Let's get you to bed, Cass._ " There was a laugh in the person's voice. " _I need to talk to you man, about earlier. But that can wait until you're rested._ "

 

Cass woke up twenty-four hours later with a warm cup of tea on the bedside table and the water running in the bathroom.

_"Carry on my wayward son,"_ Dean sang from under the shower. " _There'll be peace when you are done."_ He remembered the song from in the car. He had probably listened four or five times to it whilst Dean was driving and Cass was somewhere deep in his thoughts.

He didn't even know how he had gotten in the PJ's that he was wearing, but his educated guess was that Dean had helped him out a little bit. His head still hurt, but it didn't hurt like it had before anymore. His ribs on the other side. The second he tried to get up, he felt a sharp pain pierce his right side. _Great_. He hadn't even felt that he hit his side against anything but the metal cabinet, and yet, it felt like there was a fire running through his bones, toasting them.

The shower turned off and a few minutes later, shirtless Dean came walking in the bedroom. His hair was still dripping from his shower.

"Sleeping beauty awakes. How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a truck," he said, groaning as a laugh build up in his chest. Even laughing hurt. "But otherwise, I am perfectly fine. How's your dad?"

"He's fine, he's already on his way back to Lawrence," Dean said, nodding towards the cup of tea on the bedside. "I told him that you needed to get better before we went back. You drink that. How's your head?"

"It barely hurts," he said, "it's my side that's the bitch. I'll live though." The tea felt hot on his lips and it burned going down, but it helped his stomach calm down a little bit. It was upset because of a lack of food. Cass didn't know how long it had been since he had last even laid eyes on anything edible.

"Next time you zone out on me again," Dean said, "you give me a heads up, okay?"

"I'll try," he semi-laughing. "Sorry about that though."

"Yeah, I told you, you don't go all hero on me."

"Wouldn't you do the same if I was the one on the wall with blue lips?" he asked, eyebrows raised. He had figured that Dean would be at least thankful for being saved. Maybe he had indeed rushed in head over heels.

Dean just shrugged. "Well, we need to get food before we hit the road again. What do you think, you get cleaned up and we go get a burger?"

"Sounds like a deal."

 

Only when Cass looked into the mirror did he realize how awful he looked. The cut in his head was closed but had a huge gauge taped over it that was already turning red, his nose was a bit swollen and there were still red stains on his lips from the blood. It almost looked like he had lipstick stains all over his face, like he had been kissed by some cheap stripper with cheap lipstick.

He scrubbed the dried out blood away from his nose and corners of his mouth, glad that he already looked a little bit more human. The bruise on his ribs covered his entire side, alongside one with his old scars.

Cass spent time running his hands over his older scars, sliding against their rough edges, trying to remember. He was so sick of not knowing where they came from. ' _I knew about the deal she made to safe your sorry little ass'._ The words haunted him.

He splashed water in his face, trying to ground himself again. The demon knew nothing. She knew nothing at all, especially not about his mother. The sole thought about his mother in hell made his skin crawl. His mother had not been in hell. She had done good in her life.

"Fuck." Maybe the shock of it all was finally getting back at him. He cupped water in his hands, but let it drizzle through the cracks again. "I am a freaking idiot." He couldn't worry about his mother, not now. There were things to do, he had to function. When Cass worried to much, he was nowhere neat helpful for Dean. He too had to heal from all the bruises on his body. He knew that there were probably more unnoticed bruises hiding out.

He noticed the clothing in the corner of the bathroom. He saw the blood stains and the thorn fabric, but he couldn't bring himself to walk over there, to examine how awful it really looked.

"Hey man, you -?" Dean opened the door to the bathroom, only to freeze in his tracks mere moments after that.

"Dean," Cass said, biting back a laugh at the look in is eyes. "I'm not wearing a shirt, it's not like I am naked." Castiel was more self conscious than he liked to admit. "You're going to high school, you have a brother, don't tell me you've never seen another man's torso." He didn't want to let Dean know that he too was uncomfortable because of it. He for a fact, wanted Dean out now, or at least his shirt. It was foolish to care really, counting in the probability that Dean had helped him get his PJ's on and out of his bloody clothes.

"Your mom just called," Dean said, a blush creeping up his cheeks, "again. I told her you were fine, just a little lie. Is it okay if we hit the road again after we fetch ourselves some food?"

"Sure. Want to throw me my shirt? It's right behind you."

"Isn't that the shirt that you slept in?"

"I only brought a few," Cass said. It was his time to blush this time. "And this is the only one that has no blood stains." He wasn't even lying and that was the problem. When packing, he had taken three shirts, but each of them had gotten streaked with blood. The one had had worn when they took out the demon lay in the corner recked beyond repair, the other one he had just slept in and was pretty much drenched in sweat, alongside with some blood of the cut that had probably gotten open again last night. The last one that was left, either Dean or John had used as a way to stop the bleeding while he was in the car.

"Just a second," Dean promised before slipping out of the bathroom. He came back seconds later, a shirt draped over his arm. It was similar to the one that he was wearing now, only a little bit different in color. "This should fit you."

"Thank you," Cass said, a gentle smile on his lips. He tried to be as careful as he could with pulling the shirt over his head. He didn't want to be the one to rip open the cut on his head or worsen the bruises. Pain flared through his side

"You'll want those ribs checked out though if it gets worse," Dean said as he saw Cass flinch when the fabric brushed his side. "We didn't know how you would feel waking up in the ER."

"It's okay," he said. "I'll live."

 

They drove the Impala to a diner a little out of town. It had been the only place that was quiet enough for the two of them to talk and apparently, that was what Dean wanted to do. Cass was utterly unsure about what he wanted to talk about in the first place. About the fight with the demon? He had already given him the lecture about him pretending to be a hero back there.

When their hamburgers arrived at the table, Dean munched on his fries what seemed like forever before he finally opened up about his secret agenda.

"Dad told me what the demon said," he started, "about your mom."

"She wouldn't have been able to help anyway," he said bitterly, "and I don't know if you noticed, but you were this close to getting killed by a demon. You know, I'm starting to think that there is nothing that can stop that deal."

"Don't give up just yet," Dean said, "there may be options."

 

The drive back home took them shorter than previously thought. Cass drove through the night while Dean slept in the passenger seat. It was seven AM by the time that they started to see the marvelous town of Lawrence on the horizon. Dean had still been asleep, though Cass was sure that he would wake up soon enough.

The perk about driving at night with Dean asleep had been that he could listen to whatever he wanted. Dean had a strict policy about the music, which was simple he picked and nobody could say anything about it.

"In the shuffling madness of the locomotive breath, runs the all time loser headlong to his death ," he sang quietly under his breath, not to wake up Dean from his sleep.

What he was the happiest with, were the pills. Dean had gotten a bottle of big white pills out of the trunk of the car and given them to him with a smile on his lips. They took away the edge of the pain, but it was still present. Each time he had to use his right arm to switch gears, he felt the pain sear through.

There was the possibility that he had broken a rib and well, he went with that theory. His mother would probably ask him to go to the hospital, or curse them for not already going there, but the doctors wouldn't be able to help him anyway. Fractured ribs were nothing that a doctor could magically make better with cast or anything.

Dean twisted around in his sleep, eventually waking up when the next song had already started on the radio. Carry on my wayward son was probably blasting through the radio a little too loud. To be able to understand the previous song, he had been forced to turn the music up loud.

"What the hell man!" Dean complained as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"Sorry!" Cass said, flustered. Not a few seconds later the music was back to an agreeable level.

"You can make it up to me," Dean said, staring out the window sleepily as the welcome sign to Lawrence, Kansas rolled by. "Buy me breakfast."

"That's a deal."

 

April's reaction to the two of them walking in was priceless, or at least, hat was what Cass thought. April was the bartender in the local diner where Cass knew that they served the most delicious breakfasts. He couldn't count the times that he and Claire had dropped in on a day off from school to get their favorite eggs with bacon as breakfast.

"Hey there handsome," she said with a smile, "haven't seen you here in forever. Heard you've been on the road the past week."

"I know," Cass said, slightly uncomfortable. "Haven't had that much time."

"Yeah, whatever." She sighed, shaking her head. "How's that darling sister of yours doing?"

"She's good," he said, glad for the opportunity to get away from the conversation, "but my friend here starving."

"The usual?"

"Two," he said with a smile. He watched her walk over to the kitchen before breathing a sigh of relief.

"Handsome?" Dean laughed. He had been on the verge of laughing the complete conversation, that had been clear in the way that his mouth curled up into a devilish grin. "She's got the hots for you, doesn't she?"

"Could be," Cass said, brushing it away. "She doesn't seem to be able to figure out that her efforts are wasted though." He saw Dean's eyebrow perch up.

"Why?" He almost seemed to be amused by the interaction.

"Because I'm just not interested in her?" It was his turn to raise his eyebrows.

"Wait, so you are not interested in that amazingly hot waitress?" Dean asked, eyebrows raised yet again.

"Dean," he said, tired off it. "No, I am not, she is not my type. Okay?" He took a big sip of coffee, as to stop him from answering the next question, the question that was inevitable.

He had wanted to tell the truth to Dean, but he really didn't know how to. How could he tell a guy that he had literally shared a room with that he wasn't exactly attracted to girls, but to guys? It almost felt weird admitting it to Dean. And he sure as hell wouldn't do it in a diner over a plate of eggs and bacon.

Cass was saved for a little while though, when April brought them their food. He laughed as he saw the way Dean looked at the food and started shoving forkfuls into his mouth, barely giving himself time to chew and swallow.

Maybe he was falling for the guy, maybe he wasn't. Cass didn't even figure it out himself. There was a part of him that sure reacted to Dean's presence, a part of him that liked being around him, but there was also a part of him that was scared, that rather run far away and never come back. It was clear that Dean wasn't gay.

He ate with less haste as Dean did, causing him to have finished only half of his food when Dean slit back in his chair, full and content. It was probably the weirdest mood that Cass had seen him in thus far and he had spend maybe too much time with him in one room.

"That was the best idea that you've had so far. Now, what is your type huh? I bet brunettes if you don't like the blonds." It was sort of true, he guessed. He preferred a nice dark haired head of hair, but he wasn't put off by blond hair.

"I don't know really," he said, at least trying to be a little bit honest. "I don't really care about hair color."

"You don't know? How many people have you been with?"

"One," he said, honestly, suddenly no longer hungry. The memories of that one relationship hurt him. It had been beautiful and sweet for how long it lasted, but the aftertaste of it had been wry. The first weeks of it were now a blur of sitting in his room and feeling defeated. It had been the time that he had learned to drink alcohol straight from the bottle. "and it didn't exactly end well."

"What was her name?" Dean had absolutely no idea, Cass realized now. He kind of felt guilty for announcing it this way, but well, it was the only thing that he had the courage for.

"His name was Noah," he said silently. "It's two or three months ago that we broke up, around the same time that my mother died. I guess I never really got over it like I was meant to." He shrugged. "He had to deal with me right after I lost mom and well, I guess it was too much for him."

He glanced up one time, to see the look in Dean's eyes. It had been a mistake, to tell him the truth, he realized that now. The look in his eyes was one that he couldn't exactly place, but didn't want to handle with either.

He pulled a couple of dollars from his wallet to pay for the food and left their box, leaving a staring Dean behind. It had been hard enough to admit things to Dean about Noah. Only when he was outside though, did he realize that he would have to call his mother to come pick him up if he wanted to get home before lights out. Calling your mother to come pick you up was something that a five year old did.

He lay down in the backseat of the Impala that Dean had foolishly left unlocked. The ceiling of the car was filled with specks of dirt, the leather of the backseats still spotted with blood, probably his blood. He scrubbed at it furiously, trying to get his existence out of the car. It was the only thing that he could do not to get tears in his eyes.

Cass had been foolish, he had probably ruined one of the first real friendships that he had had in, well, forever. His unlock screen was still a picture of him and Noah. They had spent a whole year together, being happy. The first few months had been stressful, with Cass only figuring out that he liked boys and coming to terms with that fact. He had tried to keep it hidden from his parents, but they, or well, his mother had found out soon enough.

The few months that they could be happy and together had been a bliss. Except for the few arguments that they had, they spend their time together smiling. And then his mother had passed and well, he had been a wreck.

He furiously blinked the tears out of his eyes. Cass couldn't cry about Noah, not anymore. It had been three whole months, enough time to get over with things. If he was still grieving, that meant that he was weak, broken beyond repair so to speak.

A knock on the window jerked him out of his memory. Dean was looking down at him with both confusion in his eyes.

"Hi," he said, voice soft and kind. "We need to talk."


	8. Home

It appeared that Cass was overreacting. Dean sat him down in the front seat and apologized for reacting the way that he had done, even if it was nowhere near a bad reaction. It had actually been a good reaction, if he was honest. Nothing like his father.

"I was just, surprised," he said before bring the car engine back to life. "I don't have a problem with it." He watched him shake his head a little, a wry smile on his lips. "Trust me. You just look like the guy who's had at least six girls."

"Yeah well," Cass said, shrugging, "girls don't get that. It's annoying with people like April, because I have been there with Noah and Claire before. She just doesn't realize. At school too, by the way. A lot of people know, they just don't care." He shook his head. "It's just that, I've always been afraid to tell it to friends you know, especially guys."

 

When he got home, his mother threw her arms around him and pulled him tight. It hurt like hell, his ribs being squeezed together, but he tried not to flinch. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean glance at him with worry in his eyes. Cass tried to give him his bravest smile, but knew that it wasn't all that convincing.

"Uh, you might wanna, be careful," Dean said sheepishly. "He's kinda sore." His mother's arms disappeared from around him.

"Let me see," his mom said, examining his face intently. Cass was glad that his mother hadn't been there when he had first got wounded. She had probably freaked out, big time. To be fair though, he wasn't sure if he would have been able to stay calm if it had been Dean either. She stroked her thumb along the side of his face, shrugging slightly. "And that is the only thing that has happened?"

"Not exactly," Cass murmured, biting his lip absently. "Ribs aren't exactly in a good shape." To his great embarrassment she pulled up his borrowed shirt to look at the bruises. He could feel the heat find a way to his face. "Mom, please." He tugged at the edges of the shirt.

"Dean Winchester," she said, turning back to face Dean, who was practically laughing at Cass's embarrassment. "There is something seriously wrong with your definition of fine. You call broken and bruised fine? How come you don't have a scratch on your body while my boy has all the injuries."

"He couldn't do anything about it mom," Cass said quickly. "It was my own fault. I guess you shouldn't piss off a demon." He shook his head.

"At least tell me you've had those stitches done at the hospital."

"Cass was passed out ma'am," Dean said, "if we would have taken him to the hospital they would have asked questions and he probably would still be there."

"So it could be, worst case scenario, that his ribs are broken?"

"Yes mom, my ribs could be broken," he said, tugging on his duffel bag. "There was nothing that the doctors could be able to do anyway. It's like Dean said, I would still be there if it wasn't for his father or his stitching my head up. Look mom, I'm tired. Is it okay if I go ahead and sleep a little while?"

"Sure. Do you need a nap too Dean?" Cass knew that it was just being polite, that she would be glad to have this hunter out of her house and out of their lives. "You can crash on the couch if you want to. Sammy will probably come back from school in a few hours anyway. Better get in some sleep now that you can."

"Thanks," Dean nodded before following Cass upstairs.

 

Cass didn't know if Dean would be comfortable sleeping in his sister's pink sheets, but it was better than the possible outcome of Cass asking Dean if he preferred sleeping in his bed. Telling Dean had made everything more complicated. It was almost like he wasn't sure how to behave anymore. It wasn't something that Dean had done though, he was just afraid of sending mixed signals.

"There's the bathroom," he said, giving him a quick tour of the upstairs. "My bedroom, my sister's bedroom and my parent's bedroom are right there and we have a study there. Now, you can pick where you want to sleep. It'll either be my sister's bedroom or mine, take your pick." Cass hoped that Dean would take his pick sooner rather than later. With the meds losing their effect on him and the sleep deprivation of the day, he felt the tiredness fight its' way through his body. He pushed open the door adjacent doors, not exactly sure what to expect of his room.

What he clearly did not expect was to see it cleaned up. He knew that his mother had given Sam the room to stay in while he was on the road, but he hadn't expected him to clean up. Where before a dirty pile of clothes had been, you could actually see the hardwood floors, his bed was made, even his closet seemed to be cleaned out. On the desk lay a pile of schoolbooks neatly stacked, a notebook ready on a new, blank page.

"That was not how I left my room." Dean shook his head, hiding a smile.

"Sammy," he said. Cass couldn't help but notice the affection in his voice. "The kid is a clean freak sometimes."

"Yeah, well," Cass said, "remind me to thank him when he gets back from school. You want to sleep here or be stared at by thousands of eyes? My sister has a thing for NCIS, so she has posters everywhere."

"I'll take her room, you sleep in your own bed for a change."

 

Castiel had the most wonderful sleep in ages. Dean had given him some more pills right before he crawled into bed. Even though they hadn't effected him that much the previous time, this time, the need to sleep hit him like a brick. He was thankful for the medication. Even with th pills, his right side ached terribly when he tried to get comfortable in his own damn bed.

He was woken up by stumbling in the corridor only a few minutes later though. In the room next to him, he heard the bed creak, a door open. Cass couldn't get the energy to crawl out of bed. His bed was too comfortable, sleep too comforting. He needed to catch up on sleep, even though he probably had spend half of the last week sleeping.

His door opened up the tiniest bit, light filtering in through the crack.

"Cass? You up?"

"Depends on who's asking," he groaned pulling a pillow in front of his eyes, "and what you're intentions are. If you want to kick me out of bed, I am not awake."

"You were right about the famous people," Dean said, pulling Claire's duvet and pillows behind him. "I'm just going to crash on your floor, okay?"

"You are not sleeping on the floor," Cass grumbled, before scooting over in his bed. One of the advantages of a twin bed was that you could have somebody over without it being too awkward. He balanced his body on the edge of the mattress, giving Dean plenty space to sleep.

Even though there was only dim light lighting Dean's features, he knew how conflicted Dean looked. It took Dean a little while, but after closing his eyes, he felt the tilt of the mattress on his side. Soon, Dean's snoring was the only sound that filled the room.

Dean tried not to take too much space on the bed. He was flattered that Cass was willing to let him sleep in his room, even after what he had said the day before. He wished that he could say that it didn’t matter that Cass was gay, he really did, but it did change something in the way that Dean saw him.

That was the most annoying part of all of it. He didn’t know how to act around Cass anymore, what he would have seen as normal for anybody else and what he thought was weird behaviour. Somewhere deep down, he knew that it was just for now, that things would clear up once they got to know each other better and once Dean was used to it, now, it was weird. He couldn’t find another word for it, no other word than weird.

 

Neither of the boys got the chance to sleep in or get used to the calm that sleep provided them with. A few hours later, around the time that school was out, Cass was woken up from the thundering footsteps sprinting up the stairs and the loud voices. He was sort of glad for that though. The dream had been unpleasant, though he couldn't exactly pinpoint why it had disturbed him so. He had been in a car with his father, who was driving. He was happy and they were laughing about this stupid song on the radio, but something felt off to him. Something about the memory was weird. He half expected something to happen to the two of them, their car to get off the road, but it never happened.

It hadn’t even been more than the two of them just driving around. There was no reason to be scared and yet, he was almost terrified. Or at least, he had been.

“Dean! Cass! You’re back!” Cass felt his sister’s hands wrap around his shoulders, her skin cold to the touch of his naked skin. It was a maybe weird habit of him to sleep in a pair of high rise sweatpants and a loose basketball jersey that he had once actually used to play basketball in. The big disadvantage to the jersey was the fact that it let the cold through when somebody hugged our touched him and Claire, Claire was almost freezing.

“Why are you all curled up, silly?” she asked him, a smile on her lips. “You should’ve kicked Dean out of the way.” Cass only now realized how he had curled up into a ball to sleep, half his body not supported by the mattress and his head barely on the pillow. Dean was sprawled out on the other side of the bed, his arm tucked under his head.

“Claire,” he groaned as she gave him a tight squeeze, “please mind the ribs.” He had thought that his mother would have mentioned the bruises to her, told her to be careful around him, but either that hadn’t happened or Claire didn’t even think about

“Oh, yeah, sure,” she said, a look of worry in her eyes. “Does it hurt a lot?”

“A little,” Cass shrugged, sitting on the edge of the bed. The world spun around him. “It’s fine really, as long as you don’t hug me too tight.”

“You don’t look good,” she noted as he tried to get up, but swayed on his feet. The world was still spinning, though it had stopped spinning as fast as it had done before. “Maybe you should sleep some more.”

“No, I’m up,” he said, rubbing the last reminders of sleep out of his eyes. “I’m up.” He hoped that his mother had at least made some coffee for everyone, or at least had some coke in the fridge. He needed something to keep him awake and something told him that tea wouldn’t do the job, not this time.

 

Dean woke up a lot slower than Cass did. He had woken up when Sammy had shaken him awake, but he wasn’t quite ready to crawl out of bed. In comparison to the motel mattresses, Cass’s memory foam was the softest thing that he had slept on. It had been weeks since he had had a good bed to sleep in.

What he did sort of feel bad for was that Cass had felt himself forced to sleep on the edge of the mattress. It was that awkwardness between the two of them that he hated. Before, they had probably had no problem with it and now.

“Don’t you have homework to do or something?” he said, trying to surpress a yawn.

“It’s Friday Dean, I can do my homework tomorrow,” Sam said, before walking out of the room again, following Cass and Claire.

 

By the time that Dean got downstairs, Cass had already settled himself in front of the television with a blanket and a book. Dean lingered in the doorway, watching him. Cass never seemed relaxed when somebody was around, he had noticed. There was always tension in the way that he sat, something that told Dean that Cass could probably start running at any second if he had to.

That was what made him a good possible hunter. Even though Dean didn’t like admitting it, he thought what Cass had done back there for him and his father had been the best hunter behaviour from a non-hunter.

He could get why his mother didn’t want him to go into hunting though, the kid was already broken or at least looked like he could shatter any second, mentally. A lot of that was his mother’s fault though. He couldn’t even imagine what Cass had been like before his mother’s suicide and the break up. Had he been happy?

Dean hadn't even realized that there was a smile on his lips until Cass looked up at him and smiled back at him. The tension crawled back into his shoulders. It was almost like seeing him build up his wall again, brick per brick.

"Want to catch a beer with me later?" Dean asked, a gentle smile on his lips. "I am in need of some serious alcohol."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that this is a bit of a shorter chapter. The next one is longer, I am having a feeling that you will enjoy it. Hope you enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> If you want to leave me any comments regarding the story or anything, you can always check out my tumblr: bluetie-greeneyes.tumblr.com


	9. Nothing good comes from being drunk

Jo always had a full bar on Friday's. Cass liked the rush of people walking around, the chatter and the drinking around him. It almost made him feel like he was normal, human once again. Cass sat down in their usual booth as Dean went to fetch them their drinks. The bottles clanged as Dean put them on the table, before sliding into his usual spot. They had managed to create a routine for the two of them, their usual booth, their usual spots to sit. All of this was coming too much of a habit. Lately, Jo was more forgiving to serving them beer, maybe because he was used to them coming in now, maybe because she knew of their little rescue action for John. Hunters seemed to be eying them from their booths too. News was already around that John's kid had to go ahead and safe him from a demon. That wasn't why they were being stared at though, it was because he had taken along Cass. Everybody around him seemed to know that Amelia would rather die than see her boy become a hunter and what Dean had done, it had almost been like playing with fire.

“This tastes like heaven,” Cass sighed after putting the bottle to his lips. “It feels like I haven’t had beer in forever.” It was sort of the truth. During their ‘hunt’ or ‘rescue mission’, name it whatever you want, the boys had decided to keep a clear head and not drink any alcohol. If they had been under influence or drunk, they probably wouldn't be alive up until this day. There was always somebody that had to drive Baby while the other one slept, otherwise, they wouldn’t have reached Ainsworth, Nebraska as quickly as they did. Maybe, John had been dead if they hadn't arrived and gotten him out when they did.

“It feels like I have been on the clock too,” Dean admitted, “and I am finally getting off.” There was a relaxed smile on his lips as he put the bottle down. A smile that Cass loved on him. He didn't even why he noticed it when Dean laughed, maybe because it was something that he did so rarely. Dean was that kind of person that was very serious, that always had a stern look on his face when he dealt with others. The relaxed smile was a rarity, something that he saw so rarely off.

The only moments that he seemed to smile when he was talking to Sam, his brother or drunk, those were too the only moments that he seemed to relax a little bit. Cass kind of felt sorry for Dean, being raised into the profession, ready to kill a demon at age ten. Now, at age eighteen, he looked like he had seen things that he wished that he forgot. It was weird for Cass to imagine being raised into all of this, being raised into handling a gun. Dean had probably known how to knock somebody out by his eight birthday. He knew that if his mother had never decided upon keeping him out of the profession that Cass would probably 'one of the guys', he would probably belong here, in the Roadhouse. What he was confused about was whether he could be glad because of that, or not.

 

They had a loose conversation as the beer kept coming in. Blame in on the time that they spend without, blame it on the time that they weren't exactly able to drink, blame it on it being Friday, the boys didn't care. Both of them had had at least six beers by the time that they left the Roadhouse. Cass was somewhere in that state between being drunk and actually having boundaries, whilst Dean was far in the no boundaries zone. Cass was kind of anxious about the no boundaries thing. He wasn't accountable for what words came out of his mouth.

One of the good things about the alcohol was that it drowned out all of the pain. No more headache that had returned, no more pain in his ribs. No more nothing. He was sure that Dean too had realized that shift in him, that he was more comfortable now.

“You know Cass?” Dean said, almost hitting the wall. “We should probably walk home.” Both of them were too drunk to drive, he realized. The road in front of him looked shaky enough for the moment, though he knew that in a few minutes, the world would stop spinning around him and he would be able to walk a straight line again.

“Sure,” Cass sighed, taking in the look in Dean’s eyes. Oh God, he really had beautiful apple eyes. The kind of green that you only read about in all those books. “You do know you have beautiful eyes, right? No, forget that.” He could feel a blush creep up his cheeks, even though he knew that he was already flushed from the alcohol. “Yeah, you should forget that. Totally.”

“I’ll try,” Dean mused. Cass could see that he was biting back a laugh. Seriously, was Dean always like this, or was Cass just that drunk? Oh, well, he didn't even care that much. As long as he could keep his thoughts to himself for a while, it was fine.

 

Back at home, Dean and Cass sneaked up the stairs. Cass’s mother had agreed to them going out, but only if they returned before his evening clock - which had ended hours ago - and sober, neither of which could be applied. He knew that his mother would be beyond pissed to know that he broke the rules this easily lately. Maybe hanging around with Dean really was having its’ effect on him. Maybe it was just his own rebellion finally setting lose after years of slumbering, he didn’t know. Cass wished that he could say that he cared enough about it to worry.

“Where can I sleep?” Dean mumbled a tired expression in his eyes. “I need sleep man.”

“Take my bed,” Cass said, pushing him through the door of his bedroom, “I’ll take the couch.”

“Nope.” Dean made sure the ‘p’ popped. "Not... Happening." Dean was far gone, maybe a little too far gone to have only had a few beers. It wasn't Cass's problem, not when Cass was too somewhere in the same state. "You can sleep. In your own damn bed. You got that?"

“Dean,” he complained, not exactly sober enough to resist whatever it was that he proposed. “I can’t have you sleep on the couch, mom I’ll freak out if she finds you there, in like, four hours or something.” Cass looked at the alarm clock for a split second, the green figures flashing back 4:50 AM. Cass could have sworn that they had left the Roadhouse at one, maybe two AM. How had they managed to get a fifteen minute walk to take two hours? Well, he guessed that everything could happen if you drank enough. He could swear that he had only had two or three beers though, or was it six? He really was out of it.

“Cass, shut it,” Dean said, teasingly. Both boys voices were low, somewhere around the whispering level, even though they were gaining volume again. Hell would come raining down if they woke up his mother or father. His mother being angry with him when he was drunk he probably could live with, but he wasn't sure if the same could be said about his father. When Jimmy was angry, he wasn't exactly violent, he rarely hit people and when he did it, it was because he had a damn good reason. This would be a _damn good reason_. “Your bed, you’ll sleep here, right here. Just take your end of the bed, you big baby.” Dean shook his head, a smile on his lips.  _Dean should smile more._ _  
_

“You are too stubborn for you own good,” he sighed, “especially when you are drunk.” Cass almost tripped over his own words. “Too good for your own goddamn – What?” He felt himself being pulled closer to Dean. Suddenly, he was all too aware of the other, drunk, boy smiling down at him with an incredibly silly – attractive – smile on his lips. He felt the boys hands rest near his hips.

“God forbid I do this, I actually do this,” Dean whispered under his breath, almost as if he had to convince himself of whatever he was about to do. Cass felt the pressing of soft lips against his and it took him by more than surprise. Dean’s lips tasted nothing like he had imagined; they tasted like salt, like beer and something. Something that tugged on his memory. He knew what it was, but it refused to be known. He had imagined this moment a few times since he had realized that he really had a thing for Dean, but he had never imagined it to be drunk. When they both were more drunk that was probably good for them.

“You’ve had too much,” Cass sighed as their lips parted. It felt good though, being this close to Dean. Every drunk part of his brain wanted to pull the other boy down again and kiss his lips, kiss hips lips again and again until they were both too tired to make their lips move.

No matter how much a part of him wanted to keep his lips pressed to Dean, there was still a part of his brain that was still thinking. That warned him, flashed a big huge warning sign that this could damn well be a temporary thing. In the morning, Dean could think back at this and regret ever touching him, ever pushing his lips to Cass’s. It warned him that this could damn well complicate their relationship beyond something that they could ever fix.

“Not nearly enough,” was the hushed answer. “Normally, before I kiss people, I have to have had way more than this.” Dean’s hands cupped the sides of Cass’s face. “Damn I like your little stubble, did you know that.” He pressed a kiss by the corner of Cass’s mouth, teasing him. “You are one hundred percent more attractive with it.” His lips moved a little to the right, a little closer to actually kissing. “You should have a stubble more often. Don't shave."

Cass wanted to say something that would bring the two of them back to reason, the sober part of him really wanted to, but the drunk part of him was done with the teasing lips, was done with the part of him that said no to the kisses. He looped his arms behind Dean’s neck, pulling him closer.

“Maybe I’ll keep it then,” he teased, lips not more than an inch away from kissing Dean again. “Just for you.” The silence that they had to keep not to wake up Amelia, Claire or Jimmy made all of this that much more fun. “Just say it to me again, when you aren’t drunk.” He pressed his lips to Dean’s soft ones yet again. He had hungered for the affection that Dean provided ever since breaking up with, Noah. He had hungered for the touch, hungered for all of it.

He kissed Dean more hungrily now, pouring all of the feelings that he had had the past couple of seeks in the kiss. The sadness, rejection, the grieving, the loss, all that he had felt. Fuck all of it. It didn’t matter anymore. All of it evaporated. All that mattered was right in front of him. Dean and his soft lips were all that mattered now.

“But if you say that you aren’t drunk enough,” Cass teased, “I may have a little something for you.” He broke away from their embrace, heading over to his nightstand. Buried behind all the books that he kept stashed there to hide his little stash, was a bottle of whiskey, the liquid gold, as he liked to call it. “I keep it here for, special occasions. Care to drink?” He could feel a wide smile stretch over his own lips, probably the first real smile that he had had in ages.

“Now we’re talking, Cassie, now we’re talking.” The smile got even wider as Cass unscrewed the bottle and took a big sip. “I like the taste of alcohol on your lips.”

"Let's see what it does to your lips, huh?" Cass said, before passing the bottle to Dean. When Dean had taken a sip, he pulled him down again, tasting the whiskey. "It does wonders."

 

 

When he woke up the next morning, he had a splitting headache. Not the ‘I just got smacked against a freaking metal cabinet’ headache but the kind that just screamed ‘I just drank an entire liquor store, deal with it’. There was something off about the way that he way that he was laying too. His pillow wasn’t his usual soft pillow, put harder. He tried to fluff it up, to fall asleep again, but he couldn’t. Not fall asleep nor fluff it up. He considered it, well, weird but ignored it further. He just closed his eyes again, relaxed. That was when he realized the slight movement of his pillow. Up and down in a steady, calming movement. It relaxed him a bit, made him calm down even better.

“Cass, it’s noon, it’s about time to wake up.” A light burned through his still closed eyelids as his mother pulled open his curtains. Bright light streamed in through them and well, if there was a time that his head felt like it was going to explode, it was now. He looked up at her sleepily, through the cracks of his eyelids. The light was too goddamn bright for him. It felt like there were light sabers being pointed at them, instead of sunlight.

"Mom," he groaned softly, "too bright." His mother turned to him taking in the disheveled mess that he probably was. "Close it again. Please."

"Oh." His mother seemed to be almost embarrassed. Cass could see a blush creep up her cheeks and her mouth pop open for a little while. "I guess that I'll have to have a chat with the two of you. You'll be downstairs in ten minutes, or I'll come back up again, you copy?" She backed out of the room and closed the door behind her, a mix of a smile and anger in her face. A mix that Cass didn't get, not at all. What was up with two of you anyway? Was she really that much in need of glasses?

“What the hell?” he heard a familiar voice mutter. Dean sounded sleepy, as if he had just woken up. But that didn’t make sense. It couldn’t make sense. "Why is it so goddamn bright in here. How late is it even?"

Castiel had never been out of bed faster than that precise moment. Something about his chest laying on Dean’s chest – no correction, Dean’s naked chest – was something that he didn’t remember happening, not at all. Had they really been that drunk that they had no recollection, no nothing about what happened? How wasted had they been? Now he knew why he couldn't fluff up his pillow. It was impossible to fluff up a person. That had too been why his pillow had been harder, Dean seemed to be made solely out of muscle.

“What the hell?” he heard Dean say as he too sat up in bed. The scene was probably strange for the both of them, but he wasn't sure if Dean could be any more ashamed of his own actions as the memories of the previous night filtered in through the crack in his memory. They should probably stay away, for his own good. “What the hell?”

Cass sat down at the edge of the bed, unsure how far he could come after the last night, unsure about the feelings that were actually there and how much of it had been the alcohol of the night. He didn’t even know how big a part of him really cared though. He knew now that last night had been wrong. It had only been the alcohol for Dean and for him well, it had mainly been the alcohol speaking too. There was no way that he was ready for a new relationship this soon after breaking up with Noah.

It had been nice though, Dean being the only thing on his mind for once. Every single day, there were so many memories of Noah that attacked him out of nowhere, and yesterday, yesterday there had been not the slightest memory. Not even before he went to sleep.

“About last night,” he said insecurely. “Dean.”

“I was drunk,” Dean croaked, getting up. “I was drunk I guess. I don’t even remember half of it.”

“I remember until the whiskey,” Cass admitted sheepishly, the memory of him pulling out his bottle of whiskey playing before him. “And all after that is vague. I don’t remember anything of all of that.”

“Count yourself one of the lucky ones,” Dean said, shaking his head, almost as if he was trying to shake a memory out of his head. “I remember a little more. Why do you even keep whiskey in your room?”

"Sometimes, you need a drink," Cass said, rubbing the remainders of sleep out of his eyes. "Especially after your mother dies and your boyfriend bails on you."

“Boys, I was serious!” yelled a voice up the stairs. “Get your asses down or we will have a serious problem.”

“If I die down there,” Cass half joked, ready to go downstairs. “Please don’t bury my body anywhere near the one hundred mile range of this place. I don't feel the need to come back and haunt this place."

“Clothes, Cass.” It was his turn to joke about it. “You’re, not exactly wearing something suitable for downstairs?” Dean had a smile on his face as he shook his head. Maybe, he wasn't as conflicted about the previous night as Cass thought that he was.

A blush crept up Cass’s face as he noticed that indeed, he wasn’t wearing anything except his boxers. Even more embarrassed than before, he slipped into his pants and shirt, before trying to make his head of hair a bit more presentable. His hair would always be a mess.

“Let’s go get killed.”

 

Cass was unsure as he made his way downstairs, Dean following his trail. Would his mother really be that pissed about it all, or was she just goofing around with them? Once, he had been in a quite similar situation and well, it had been more compromising than this. It had been back when he had been first together with Noah. His mother hadn’t known about the fact that he had a boyfriend or the fact that he was gay. She had too found them, with a great deal of clothes more missing. Back then, she hadn't even been that angry about, she had just told the two of them to be more careful about it and to just tell her when the other one was staying over.

That had been the time when the rules had been made about boys in his room when nobody was around. It had been more than embarrassing for Cass, at that time only sixteen while Noah was more than used to it.

“Sit down,” she said, “and drink your coffee, I can’t have you two fall asleep on me.” Cass hesitantly took his cup of coffee. The warmth running down his body did help with staying awake and well, it helped his headache go away too.

“Who’s going to start explaining why I had to figure things out like this, again? Really Cass?” She looked at him with disappointment in her eyes. “First Noah, then Dean? Are the words, ‘Well mom, Dean and I are dating’ that hard to say? Seriously. I get that it isn't exactly easy to tell somebody that you are gay."

“We aren’t dating mom,” Cass said, interrupting her, “we were drunk.”

“Well, in any case, you knew the rule. No boys in your bedroom that I don’t know of, especially not at night. What would you have done if your father had walked in on the two of you, huh? He's a lot less forgiving about this stuff." She shook her head. "Does your father know where you are Dean? I will have to call him to talk about this.” Dean stared at her, wide eyed and beyond confused. Almost as if he was scared of John finding out.

"Why does he need to know?"

"Because you 'crashed on my couch' without me knowing and scared the hell out of me, plus because there was an empty bottle of whiskey on the bed which I presume was still full yesterday. Don't go around thinking that I accept my boy being drunk all the time." She shook her head again. "You know, this really all makes me think about your little road trip to save your father. I don't even want to know what you did back there."

"Look, we are not dating, okay? We are not together, we are not in love, whatever you think that it is, because it is not." Dean looked almost angry. "We were both drunk. Nothing happened at our road trip, because there was nothing that could happen." Cass tried to avoid looking at either of them. He didn't want Dean to notice how much his words actually hurt him. If there was one way to make it clear to Cass that he didn't feel the same about him in one way, that was the way. He didn't want his mother to notice that he cared for Dean, because he knew that she would just pity him. He didn't want to be pitied.


	10. I'm sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to post a chapter every thursday and friday if I can, so that I have a little bit of a scedule as far as posting goes.

By the time that Cas got out of the shower, his bedroom was cleaned up and Dean had been thrown out of the house. He was pretty sure that Dean would have escaped the first route that he saw, after their awkward encounter of both last night and his morning. He couldn't blame him for it, the situation was more than a mess.

The empty bottle of whiskey lay on his bed, accompanied with the spare one that they hadn't opened the previous day. He didn't even know how his mother had found the bottles, they were hidden behind a few classics that he kept stashed in his nightstand drawer, just in case. He didn't know if he had ever even touched the classics, even though they looked worn. Maybe, in a distant past, he cared about it, about reading books and getting into the story, the world. Now, he didn't really care for it anymore. The words weren't appealing to him anymore. Sometimes, he felt kind of guilty for being like that, for abandoning everything that he seemed to have cared about at some point.

His mother had put clean blankets on his bed and allowed the room to air out a little. The smell of whiskey still clung to the room. Even after the shower, it still hung to his skin and in his hair for some reason. Next to his bed there was a big stain from where the bottle had fallen over somewhere during the night. He remembered it falling over, Dean reaching forward to catch it before everything spilled. He remembered looking at the muscled back and smiling, wanting to run his fingers down his spine, even if it was just to see the way that Dean reacted to his touch.

"We need to talk, Castiel," Amelia said from his bed. "Not about the thing with Dean, I could see that it was, well, _complicated_. It's about something that he told me." She padded the fabric next to her. "Come sit down and we'll talk." His mother looked almost nervous. Her hands were shaking and the look in her eyes told him that something was up, something serious.

Cas made his way down to the bed hesitantly, hair still dripping. "What is it mom?" What had Dean talked to her about?

"Dean told me that you have been scratching your scars again, Castiel and that you told him that you do not know where they come from. I know that me and your father have always told you that we do not know where they came from either, but I guess that we do. We wanted to protect you." She shook her head. "Dean told me that you were furious with me because you didn't know why I made the deal. Your scars and the deal are related, so let me tell you about what happened. Maybe you won't be as mad with me as you are now." There was a slight smile that covered her lips, before she spoke again. "Look, I know that this isn't exactly my business, but don't think that Dean doesn't care about you, son. I think that he does care, he just doesn't know how to handle the feelings. It was clear in the way that he spoke that he was conflicted. Give him some time, he'll come around.

"You're not going to give me relationship adivce mom, are you?" His eyebrows perched up. His mother just shook her head and smiled, the way that only a mother could. He could only stare at his mother for a little while, his hand on the scars again. He absentmindedly let his hands stroke them as his mother began to tell him what happened.

"You were seven years old," she started, staring at some point in the distance. "You and your father were driving back home from a birthday party that you had been invited to. I can't remember whose it was, but I think a hunter kid. That was why I didn't want you to go in the first place, but Jimmy, your father, he told me that I couldn't outrun my past forever and that just hanging out with hunter kids wasn't going to get you hurt. It was Joanne's, Ellen's daughter. You know, the one who owns the Roadhouse? I remember that Jimmy said that you had loved it there, but that you sneaked out a hunter's knife. I think I still have that thing somewhere.

"The road was calm that night, or so your father told me. These are the parts of the story that I am not sure about, because I wasn't actually there when all of this happened. There were few cars on the road, though that was probably because it was raining. Your father was driving on the Interstate when a truck started to slip on the water on the road. He noticed it too late and they crashed. Your side of the car was hit the hardest." Cas could see that his mother found it difficult to tell him, that there were tears in her eyes. "The car came out of the accident as wreck. The right side, you know, the passenger seat side? It was completely compressed.

"I was at home with your sister, she was two back then, when we got the call from the hospital to say that there had been an accident and you and your father had been hurt in it. We got there first thing. I remember walking around in the Intensive Care Unit with Claire in a stroller because she was vast asleep. They wouldn't allow me to see you at first, because you were in for surgery. Your dad was luckier. Because your side of the car was hit first, you were the one to get the hit. He managed to get out with a broken leg and arm. You have no idea how long he beat himself up over it, over not being able to protect his son, his only son.

"When we got back to you," she continued, the tears now clear in her eyes, "they told us to expect to see something that we wouldn't like. You had to undergo surgery to stop severe bleeding in your abdomen, you had a slight cause of brain edema - your brains were swollen - your right lung had collapsed, there was a risk that your left lung would collapse too and you had broken quite a few bones, including your ribs." There was a sad smile on her lips. "That is why you break them easily now, because they have been broken before. You were in a coma they told us, and it wasn't one that they had decided to put you in to get better, or to help your body get better. You had slipped into it on your own account." She was crying now, though Cas couldn't do anything but just stare at her. "They said that you still had to go in for a scan to see if you had any brain activity. If there was none, they said that there was a fair chance that we would have to say goodbye to you. If you woke up, you would have to learn to do everything again. No matter how things turned out, we wouldn't like it. When we first got to see you, I ran out of the room. You were hooked up to a thousand different machines, every few seconds something beeped, something made a sound. It was just nerve racking.

"You were in that coma for a year while your body healed. After a while, you had to have a trach to make the breathing easier. Your lungs were really beat up because you wouldn't breathe on your own. They tried to wean you off of the machine for a while, but you kept getting beat up because of it. Your lungs started to swell and get infected. That is where you got your scar in your neck from, the weird one. The trach was this tube that they put in to breathe for you. You have no idea how broken and torn up I was about it." She played with a picture in her hands. "This is a picture that your father took of you, three months after the accident. He said that he wanted to have a last recent picture of you, just in case, just in case you would die."

Cas stared at the picture. It was weird, looking at a picture and knowing that it was you, but not recognizing yourself. His skin was ashy, there were indeed more machines around him than he could imagine.

"That was until the day marking the year after the accident. I remember it clearly, because a representative of the hospital came in to tell me that this was a good moment to reconsider saying goodbye to you and allow you to go off the machines. You weren't showing signs of getting out of the coma and were pronounced brain dead, had been for quite a while at that point. They told us that they couldn't do anything anymore had had to consider moving you out into a private facility if we wanted to keep you there for much longer.

"That was why I made the deal. I got ten years and you got to live a happy and healthy boy. The crossroads demon, Crowley, he told me that he would take away all of the memories of being in the hospital and your recovery after. That you would be able to grow up without any memories of what happened to you. In that way, I was very lucky. If I had come across somebody else, they might have just gotten you out of the coma and done nothing else.

"The doctors were very surprised when you came out of your coma. There were many things that you had to relearn, eating, drinking, talking, walking. After another six months, you went back to school and caught up with all of your stuff like a champion." She smiled at the memory. "Your physical therapist told us that you were a very clever, lucky little boy. That was too the time that you smiled again. Normally, you would have to do say goodbye to all of your classmates because they were a class ahead of you, but because you got caught up with all the stuff that you needed to learn and the stuff of their year, you were allowed to go to the next class with them that year. Me and your father were very proud of you, alongside your teachers. We had to tell your teachers that you suffered from severe memory loss and didn't remember a thing from getting better or having the accident. It was a silent agreement that nobody mentioned any of it while you were in hearing range." She looked up at him with an expectant look in her eyes. "So that is why I made the deal, where you scars come from, the whole truth."

"Why didn't you ever tell me, mom?" Cas was almost angry with her, even though he still had to process it all in his head. The pieces of the puzzle seemed to fit, the gapes in his memory seemed to be explained.

"We were scared, we wanted to protect you. Not even your sister knows about any of it," Amelia said, a sad look in her eyes. Cas could see how broken she was because of it. "Look, we know that it is wrong -"

"And what did you think that I would say now? Thanks mom? Thank you for keeping the biggest thing in my history secret from me?" He snapped, cutting her short of whatever she was about to say. Her words couldn't make anything better. If they only could stop the rage that flew through his veins. "What if I had to go in and something happened? What if I was in an accident and I had to fill in a questionnaire and they would ask whether or not I have ever been through surgery before? I would be providing them with false information and I wouldn't even know it!" Cas could feel the rage pulse through his veins, could feel the need to punch someone or even better, something almost explode. "I'm going for a walk, _alone_. Don't you dare follow me."

 

The cold outside helped, helped a lot, but still he couldn't lose the anger completely. He ran for miles before he finally stopped, barely able to catch his breath. His lungs burned, his ribs felt like they couldn't expand anymore, but his headache was mostly gone. All pain seemed to overthrow whatever it was that he thought he felt. It didn't give him the chance to think everything through and for that, he was grateful. Sweat ran down his body, completely making his shower that morning wasted. If only the shower had worked completely. It would have been so much better than the anger that still ran through his veins. The need to punch somebody was still there, though very faintly.

That was when his phone buzzed. Cas cursed as he pulled the cell phone to read whoever it was that needed him. When it appeared to be Dean though, he was surprised. He had thought that Dean wouldn't want to talk to him for another twelve years and that for sure.

_Roadhouse, 7PM? Need to talk. D._

>Sure, I’ll be there. You okay?

_Yeah, just need to talk._

Walking in the roadhouse felt weird to Cas. He had gone back home to quickly take a shower, again, before fleeing again the first chance that he saw. The roadhouse was practically abandoned at 7PM. He should have been home too, but he had called his mother to say that he needed to think things through, that he would be back at some point, but just not right now. He needed to space to breathe for a little while and not get any angrier about all of it. If he had been forced to stay home, he probably would have lashed out anyway. He didn't want to leave a path of destruction in his wake.

Why did people always think that keeping things a secret from the people you love could help them out? How did people think that it would be when the secrets popped up? He didn't know why his mother hadn't expected this.

The worst of it all were the memories that started to come back in flashes. Starting during the run, things had started to come back to him. Sitting in the car with his father. The impact, waking up in the hospital, it came back once in a while. No full memories, just flashes of them.

Dean was already sitting in their usual booth, two bottles of beer in front of him. He looked up when Cas stopped in front of the booth, throwing him a almost nervous smile, pushing forth his second beer.

"Hi," he said before taking another swig from his beer himself, "thanks for coming."

"Sure," Cas said, shrugging before sliding into the booth. "I needed to get out of the house anyway."

"They giving you trouble for what happened?" he asked, sounding as worried as he could get.

"No," Cas said, putting the bottle to his mouth and taking a sip, "they probably will though. It's something else. None of your concern. I'll tell you later" He shook his head. "Really. What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Dad called," he said, "we're about to leave the city again. We leave tomorrow. I'll keep my eyes open to possibilities for breaking your sister's deal if I can." Cas didn't know what happened after that. He knew that something happened, but he couldn't exactly see through the haze that the anger provided. "I can't help you the way I want to anymore. I'm really sorry, Cas." Dean took him in cautiously, seeing what Css would do.

"Great," he snapped, setting the bottle down on the table. He was sure that the whole bar could hear the bottle crack, but he didn't care. He stormed out in a haze of fury, not caring who he passed in his wake.

"Cas!" His fist connected with the bricks outside of the Roadhouse, sending pain shoot through him. He didn't care about the pain, couldn't care about it anymore. "Calm down Cas!" He heard him cuss, but couldn't understand what it was exactly. His fingers were still on his hands, he could still move them, so they weren't broken. That was the most important thing.

He felt somebody wrap his arms around him, pulling his arms to his sides. "Calm, down." Cas could see the worry in Dean's eyes, but he didn't care anymore. He was beyond caring.

"You know, I gave up a lot? You bloody idiot, I could have gotten information about the deal from the demon! But you know, I didn't because I wanted you to be safe. I sacrificed so much of my time in looking for information about deals with you, I skipped schooldays, I got drunk, I did everything." He had to bite his lips to stop the tears from coming in. "I went on this crazy road trip with you to make sure that you and your father would be okay. I only asked you one thing. You can't even do that! Now, you just stroll in and say well, I can't help you anymore." Blood burst through the shallow cuts on his knuckles. "Look, I get this can be awkward between you and me right, but I need your help Dean." He shook his head. "But of course, you can't help, and you won't either!"

Cas didn't even know why he threw the first punch. Maybe it was a build up from all that had been happening the past couple of days, weeks. All he knew was that he hit Dean in the face, hard. The crunch of his nose almost felt good to Cas, for some twisted reason. Blood trickled down to Dean's lip, ran in his mouth as he stood there, frozen.

"I trusted you," Cas whispered as he raised his hand again. His fist connected with Dean's nose, again. He could feel the bones under his fist and best or worst, whatever you want to call it, the way they have way. Cas was too far gone too care about it. "What are you standing there for? Just hit me already." He didn't know where his bravery came from, or why he was taunting a full fletched hunter. "Just freaking hit me already!"

His cheek burned with the touch of Dean's fist against his jaw. Blood pooled up in his mouth. It tasted bitter, almost like iron. When he smiled up at Dean, he was sure that his teeth were red, because he backed off a little bit.

"I don't want to have to do this, Cas. Can't we talk about it, please?"

"No." He spat the words at him. "No we freaking can't."

 

He wished that he could say that he stopped throwing punches at some point because he felt sorry for Dean, but knew that he was lying. As the two boys got into a fight, it wasn’t just the anger for Dean leaving him. Suddenly, it was everything, the anger that he felt because Dean said that it was nothing but being drunk the other night, for saying that his kisses were nothing, for getting him fucked up, for everything that had ever happened to him.

When he was forced to back off, both him and Dean were bloody and bruised. Cas could barely walk straight after a few kicks in the rib from Dean. Each breath he took hurt like hell as he crawled away from Dean, ashamed about what he had done, ashamed about how scared he was. That was when he blacked out.

After that, all he remembered was being helped by somebody whose voice didn't sound familiar at all, being put into the ambulance and driving off to the hospital, hanging on for dear life.


	11. Five years change a lot, but not enough

The hospital wasn’t a pleasant experience for Castiel. Even though there was a silent buzz around him and his equipment. After the first few hours of being in and out of consciousness and giving both his family and the doctors bad scares at least twice. He barely remembered anything from the moments that his heart started to give out.

The doctors blamed it to the assault or stress and that they probably shouldn’t worry too much about it if it didn’t happen again. What the doctors were worried about, were his lungs. He knew that they had checked his file, he knew that they knew about the collapsed lungs in the past. At some moments, the cannula didn’t even seem enough. They had to put him on four litres of oxygen at one point, which they promised that he couldn’t get back from if his lungs didn’t start to get better. But it weren’t just his lungs that had to get better, that had to heal. There was also the deep cut in his cheek, the broken ribs from a few days before that that had almost punctured his lung again, the roadmap of bruises all over his body, his face, his legs, his arms, everywhere. After the first day, his muscles felt sore, he could barely move the slightest bit without hurting.

In all that time with Cas fading in and out of consciousness, he never told a living soul anything about what had happened in the ally. The first few days he was barely awake when other people were around and in other times well, he just didn’t feel like it. That until one moment his mother walked in the room, sat down on the edge of his bed and looked him straight in the eye.

“You can tell me what happened, Cas. I’ve spoken to Sam. He told me, but I need to hear your story too.” After that, there was no more stopping the tidal wave of emotions that hit him. He told her everything, about he had taunted Dean, how it was all his fault, how he had thrown the first punch. His mother listened to him, nodding as she understood what happened. After saying it to his mother, Cas couldn’t tell it, not anymore. His mother told the doctors everything.

Staying in the hospital was okay with him, he didn’t mind the nurses scurrying around, the loud noises, not as much as he hated the nightmares that plagued him. Ever since waking back up in the hospital, the vivid nightmares had been there, the accident, being in a coma, it all came rushing back. All the details of that god awful night clearer than they had ever been before. The flashbacks were violent, the short flashes unnerving. Often, he’d be talking to somebody when they came around, he’d suddenly freeze and worry everybody around him. The hospital staff was worried about the nightmares, even though he downplayed them as well as he could. When he decided that he didn’t sleep in the hospital anymore, they tried to force him into it. The medicine forced him to sleep, yes, but he never felt awake when he came back around, he almost seemed to be sleepier. The first day that he actually slept on his own accord was exactly one week after he got discharged.

Staying in the hospital, it wasn’t a pleasure ride, it was torture. There were so many things bothering him, the cannula that they used to pump two extra litres of oxygen in his lungs with, the IV - to help his lungs fight their inflammation and provide him with the fluids that he could barely get through his swollen lips without hurting - itched and constricted him of going to far off. He didn’t even attempt to take a walk. His chest was too thorn up. The only times that he got to go out was in a wheelchair. The first time that he actually took steps on his own behalf was when he left the hospital. He had never been happier to be in the car, his lungs burning. He was discharged with a oxygen tank though, to help his lungs in the first few weeks. In the hospital, they had managed to wean him from it poorly. He wasn’t taking four litres anymore, but still required the three litres. His lungs were just too thorn up, too damaged.

Normally, he knew that he wouldn’t have been discharged with a tank, he knew that he’d be forced to stay there until he was weaned to an extent that pleased the doctors. However, because it seemed to be a busy time at the hospital, they had needed every bed, leading into him being discharged.

 

In the first days and weeks after the hospital he pretended to be okay, until the wall that he had built up so carefully came thundering down on him. Cas did everything he could, read every book ever published and spend hours behind the computer looking through each site that looked the tiniest bit real. His mother worried about him and he knew that, but she had no ground to stand on. He got back ahead for school, worked harder than ever and got accepted into the college that he wanted. It all seemed unreal for him, how he pulled it off. How he managed to put all his attention in school without burning out completely, how he stopped other people from noticing how bad things were getting for him.

The oxygen was something that he seemed to be having trouble getting rid of. He took the extra oxygen for three months. At that time, they had weaned him off to about a litre to two litres, depending on the moment. He hated going to school carrying the extra oxygen, people stared at him, didn’t know what was wrong even though the story of him and ‘that new dude’ fighting got out pretty quick.  The oxygen concentrator wasn’t even that big. It all fit into a bag that he swung over his shoulders. It was heavy to carry around and he went through three rechargeable batteries each day – he was allowed to charge them in the back of his classes if one ran out, so that he wouldn’t get in too much trouble – if he had a bad day, but at least he could breathe.

When he was accepted into college, he took the oxygen with him but got lousy with it all. He never had his oxygen in his classes and even in his dorm room, he barely used it. He could notice the burning in his lungs getting worse, he could literally feel them getting worse, but he no longer cared. He was too far gone to care about stuff like that.

He studied hard for his college subjects while looking for options, though there was always this little edge of alcohol on him. Cas didn't know when it went from pleasure drinking, to drinking away the grieve that he had for losing a friend and when it went to drinking just because he felt the need to drink. He didn't know when alcohol became his addiction and it caused him to stop functioning fully.  He even got thrown out of family Christmas parties because he arrived on the scene drunk.

The day that he graduated from college was the first day in at least a year that he hadn't drank any beer or whiskey. He graduated with average scores, but with a degree. He could set out and go find work. That was something that he didn't want to do just yet though. Not with his sister going through the last week of her life. She had one or two more weeks before they would come for her. Even though she didn’t seem to be paying too much attention to it, he tried to do his best to find a way to stop it. He was getting incredibly nervous about all of it though.

The countdown seemed to be unable to stop. No matter how hard Cas tried, it felt like he was running out of options, running out of luck.

 

When he woke up that sunny August morning, he felt everything but cheerful. Even though he had moved back to Lawrence, Kansas the previous day and his possessions were few, he still had too much too unpack, too many boxes that were just stashed in some corner waiting to get unpacked. His oxygen concentrators were in there too. Whilst packing, he had debated whether to keep them or not, knowing that breathing had gotten a lot harder in the past couple of weeks. In the end, he did keep them, just in case he would ever need them badly.

 In one of those boxes, there was a past that he tried to suppress. The books that his mother had read to him while he had been in a coma, the get better cards, the pictures that were taken that he had never been in. the picture that hurt the most, was the Christmas picture, one that he actually had been in. His family had gathered in the hospital room, to come say hello to him. It was painful to look at because of precisely that reason. Back then, they still cared.

 

A job was one of his first priorities that he had to get settled now he was an official adult with rent to pay and bills that come in every month. He had a little bit of money left from his student loan, but it wasn’t enough for him to live a proper life.

His parents had welcomed him back with a smile on their lips – even if it was a sour one - and he had managed to crack a smile for them, even if it was a poor excuse of one. He still hadn't forgiven them for everything that had happened between them the past couple of years. It hadn't just been the fact that they kept things from him, but also the fights that started to happen about the way that he chose to live life, about his almost obsession with getting his sister to live longer than five years. His father didn’t get a smile though, because he never really showed up. He said hello and was gone again.

Cas didn't bother eating before putting his by now half empty bottle of whiskey that he had opened yesterday to his lips and taking his first sips of the day. He knew that he'd probably have to open another bottle that day if he kept going like this, but it was damn warm in his apartment and he didn't have the money to buy a vent to air things out. He could open up the windows, but knew that unless the warmth backed off it wouldn’t help a bit.

Claire and her boyfriend would be at the apartment soon to help him unpack the last of his belongings. He had heard her promise it to their parents before she left. Cas wasn't stupid, he damn well knew that she didn't stop by because she was really interested in helping him, but to check on him. He got it, he too knew that his parents were just worried.

He got it, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t think that it was incredibly annoying. He wasn’t a toddler that needed to looked out for. He was an adult now, he could take care of himself, by himself.

 

He was only up for about ten minutes when the doorbell rang and Claire walked in. She was alone, which kind of surprised him because she and Adam had seemed to be hip to hip with each other the past couple of weeks. Cas didn't mind it all that much though. He wasn't exactly a big fan of Adam, he was too grown up for Claire, too mature. While Claire was only seventeen, Adam was already twenty-one, his age. Adam was mature, drove an expensive car, the whole deal.  His sister was no match for that boy.

"Don't get mad," she said, before sitting down in the worn old sofa that Cas had managed to pick up for a few bucks, "but I called in some help." At first Cas didn't totally understand what she was talking about, that was until she pulled out her phone. "I know you care, Cas, but you can't figure out how to help me alone, so I called the only hunters we know." She looked at him expectantly.

"Oh no, you didn't." He hadn't meant to snap at her, but the words had left his mouth before he could stop them. "Don't tell me you rang Sam and Dean." The name 'Dean' still tasted sour on his lips and his tongue. He had never managed to forgive Dean for what happened back in the day, even though the fury had seemed to be iced over. Seeing them could get all of the fury back into him, and he didn’t know how long he could survive if that was the case.

"They are coming here in twenty minutes," she admitted sheepishly, biting her bottom lip. "They don't know that you'll be here. I know that it's a touchy subject for probably the both of you, so, I left out the information. I think Sam knows though." She shook her head. “He said that he’d tell Dean that I called, so.”

"I'll leave then," he said, before collecting his keys and wallet. "I'm not going to sit here while the one who beat me up close to being unrecognizable is only a few meters away is here, thank you very much."

"Oh, come on Cas! It's been years!" She sounded almost disappointed in him. "Do you really think they'll even remember you? Come on."

"You don't get it," he snapped at her, fury raging through his veins once again. "Dean literally scarred me! You tell me, after the Dean thing happened, how many boyfriends have I had?" He allowed the awkward silence between the two of them to fall. Even though Claire knew about him being gay, he knew that she was uncomfortable around the subject. "How often have I been freaking sober?" He spat the words at her, even though the fury was not meant for her. "He got me in the freaking hospital and then left like it was nothing. I completely fucked up my life because of that dude. You can't tell me you haven't noticed." Cas could feel his hand touch the scar on his cheek. "I have to look at this freaking scar each and every day for the reminder of my life and know that one of my freaking friends did this. And my lungs, Claire? My lungs are freaking disasters because they got swollen and hurt over again. I can barely walk the stairs or long distances without gasping for breath!”

"Then you should use your oxygen, Cas, if you listened to the doctors, you’d be getting better. You are just too damn stubborn. And great excuse, but smoking Cas? Do you have any idea what kind of crap smoking does for your lungs? It's been five years, can't you just be in the same room with him for twenty minutes? I don't want to die Cas! And If I am not the one to call them, they won't be called and I know I'll die."

"No," he said, shaking his head, "you know I've been spending _all my time_ for the past five years working on ways to make sure that you'll be able to live! How can you even think that? How can you say that?" He threw his keys down. "If you don't want me to leave, _fine._ I'll be in the bathroom, smoking, ruining my lungs some more. Maybe then I’ll die because they are too scarred and you’ll never have to put up with me again, _don't_ tell them that I am there or I will personally make sure that you'll go to hell a week ahead of your time, okay?" He looked at her, firsts clenched at his sides. He was furious at her. Bringing up his lungs was his fault, but making it all about him, Claire knew that he hated that.

 

From his bathroom window he could see the battered old Impala arrive in the parking lot. Even though it had quite a lot more scrapes and dents in it, it was without doubt the same Impala that he had spent quite a lot of time in five years ago.

He could see a familiar head of hair get out of the car, Dean, and another lanky guy which he guessed was Sam appear from the other side. He could barely recognize him from upstairs. Sam was no longer the short little thing that he used to be. He seemed to even taller than Dean and Dean had been tall back in the day. His hair was longer than it had ever been.

The bathroom was pretty much the only spot in the little apartment that he could both smoke and be alone for a little while. He knew that Claire had started some coffee and pulled out some snacks on the living room table that he had managed to screw together last night. Secretly, he hoped it would collapse on them. What did she even think, inviting them over? Sam, he could agree with, but Dean? Never.

He couldn't remember when he had started smoking. Cas knew that it had been either his first or second year in college, when everything had come raining down on him harder than it had ever did before. The result of three or four years of smoking was already noticeable on his voice and the way he spoke. He knew that his voice sounded rougher than it had done before and that he probably was getting permanent damage from it. Did he care though? Nope. He didn't. He wished that he could care, but he didn’t care. Not even with his lungs being the bad lungs that they were, he didn’t care for clogging them up further. If he had to care about something like that, well, he’d be worrying about everything and he would never stop.

As long as he hid in the bathroom, he knew that he didn't have to come out and face the possibility of seeing Dean. He had a package of cigarettes and his bottle of whiskey with him. On this, he could last days. During his college years, he had learned to live for periods at a time on nothing but chewing gum and whiskey. Those were the times when he had exams coming in that he hadn't studied enough for or just stressful times in general. Those had too been the times that he had lost a lot of weight and his parents had been worried about him.

When he heard the doorbell chime, he slid down the edge of the bathtub, balancing the ashtray on the edge. He couldn't say that it was the most comfortable place to sit, with the cold porcelain or whatever the tub was made out of cutting into his back, but at least it was cool. It helped take his mind off of everything and cool him down again. He was sweating like crazy, even though he was barely wearing anything.

"Dean! Sam!" he could hear Claire say enthusiastically. "God you guys have changed! Take a seat, take a seat. Want coffee?" His sister was quite the hostess, especially considering that it wasn’t even her house. He didn’t even know where she had found the cups, as far as he knew, they were still sitting in their respective boxes.

"Sure." This was unmistakably Dean. Even just hearing his voice send shivers down his spine, and not the good way. Maybe the good way too, even if it was just a little bit. He realized with a jolt that he was scared of Dean, scared of what he could do to him. "Is this your place?"

"Oh no, Cas just moved in so I'm helping him get settled. He's in the bathroom right now, he'll be right out. They're here Cas!" He heard Claire shout from the living room. Cas put the bottle of amber liquid to his lips, taking one big sip of courage before putting out his cigarette and getting back up. He would only get more trouble if he stayed in the bathroom now, thanks to Claire. Dean would probably get why he hid out, but Sam, Sam wouldn't.

"Be right there!" he yelled back, before finishing his bottle and splashing some water in his face. He didn't look awake at all, he realized, no worse even, he looked almost like a zombie. He had worse bags under his eyes than he had had in ages, he had a stubble - which Dean had liked, once upon a time - and his skin looked almost ashy. The last time that he had looked like this was the evening before his last final, one that he had to pass in order to get his degree. He had probably not slept in days or weeks at that point.

_Oh well, fuck it_. That was one of the many advantages of drinking alcohol, it made him relax. It made him feel better about himself. What it did make him do that he didn’t like, well, it was walk wobbly, it made him just a little bit weaker. He put the bravest smile on his lips that he could fathom and opened the bathroom door.

 

Dean wasn't sure what he had thought that Cas would look like now. Last time Dean had seen him, he had been bloody and bruised and it had all been his fault. Back then, he'd barely recognized him, but now, this was the epitome of different and not in a good way. It almost shocked him, if he had to be honest.

Back in the day, Cas hadn't been chubby, but he hadn't been skinny either. He had balanced between the two of them, but now, he looked like he had dropped at least twenty pounds and that was being kind. His jeans and his shirt hung loosely around his body. His face, it looked shallow, ashy. He lingered in the door of the bathroom, an empty bottle of whiskey in his hands. So he hadn't kicked that habit just yet. And it probably wasn’t the only of his habits.

Dean had to admit, he was worried for Cas, worried for how far he had let himself drift off. This was nothing like the Cas that he thought he knew. He watched Cas put the bottle of whiskey in the kitchen before he too sat down at the edge of a sofa, clearly not comfortable around him. He seemed tense, ready to flee. His paces were wobbly, he was probably more loaded than Dean realized.

He tried to be angry at Cas for what he had done, he really tried to, but couldn't. There was no way that this broken man in front of him was still to blame for whatever happened that night. Cas had just had a lot on his plate, he had been going through a lot of shit at that point. If Dean was honest too, he didn't think that he had been entirely sober when he threw the first punch. Neither of them had been completely sober.

"Sam," he said, a faint smile on his lips. "You've grown!" Something was up with his voice too, though he couldn't say what is was exactly. It was rougher, deeper almost. "Sorry about the mess by the way, I'm still moving in. I only got my key to the place yesterday." Dean noticed how his eyes darted back and forth between Dean, to Sam, to Claire, back to Sam, back to Claire. He seemed to be avoiding Dean. “Scared of the scissors huh? It suits you.”

"No, it's fine," Sam said with a smile on his lips, apparently unaware of the tension in the room. "I like it. Thanks! You too man. What’s up with the curls huh?"

"Me too," Cas said, still on edge. “I don’t know man, I’m too lazy to get it cut. I should probably.” He ran through his hair, forced to agree with Sam. His hair had gotten to his ears now, it was too long.

“And we’ve been telling your for at least a year to have it cut,” Claire chimed in, shrugging. “What do you think Dean? Does his hair deserve a haircut or what?”

“Yeah,” Dean mumbled, lost in thought.

 

Cas tried his best not to look at Dean and the look that he had on his face as he sat down. If he had a choice, he would run away in the opposite direction and never come back. That was what he wanted to do from the core of his existence, but couldn't do.

He knew that the second he could escape from the room, that he would do that exact thing. He could come up with the excuse that he had to get groceries or something. He was out of alcohol anyway. Being in the same room with Dean, it got him on an edge.

"Will you guys be okay if I go and hit the grocery shop for a second?" he asked, smile on his lips. He didn't know who he was kidding. "If you guys need any of my research, it's in the spare room, the brown boxes labelled _deal_ I believe. Claire packed them, so she'll know." He ignored the look that Claire threw him, before hurrying out of the room. Outside, he felt like he could finally catch his breath without being tense, or at least, for a little while.

By the time he got downstairs, he couldn't ignore the footsteps following him anymore. He was ready to turn around and snap at Claire when he heard _him ye_ ll.

"Cas! Hold on, I'm coming with."

"Don't," Cas said, shaking his head. Only a few more yards and he got to the car. He could escape Dean "I'll only be gone for a few minutes anyway. I'm sure that you and Claire have catching up to do too. Maybe you should help them get my research or something, I can do this on my own."

"I want to talk to you, Cas," Dean interrupted, "just a second? Please?"

"Sure," he sighed, "go with then if that is what you want." Cas wasn’t up for this at all, but something told him that Dean nor Claire were going to leave it alone. If Dean wanted to talk, he had to do it at the supermarket. At least that way, Cas didn't have to pay too much attention to what he was saying and he could stay a little distance away from him without it being too obvious. He wanted to get into his car and drive off, but stopped at the door when he realized that Dean was just staring at him, instead of following. "I thought you wanted to go with?" _Please say you've changed your mind, please say that you have changed your bloody mind._

"Don't tell me that _that thing_ is your car," he said, eyes wide. "Does that thing even run? There's no way that we are taking that _thing_ to do shopping." Dean shook his head. "We'd run out of gas with how much that _thing_ uses."

"Hey, it runs!" Cas said, feeling like he was under attack even though it was his car, "I don't exactly have the money to get it fixed, jackass. Don't insult my damn car." Even thinking about the student loans that he still had to pay gave him a splitting headache. Before he could even start to put aside some money in case something happened, he'd have at least fifteen thousand dollars that he had to pay back to the bank in the following years. "What do you suggest we do if you don't want to drive my car?"

"The Impala is right there," Dean said, pointing at his car. "We can take that. No, we _will_ take that."

"Why not," Cas sighed, "but I drive."

"You are drunk Cas," Dean said, eyebrows raised, "you are not driving baby. You can barely walk straight."

"I've driven with more alcohol in my system and I haven't even been caught or been in an accident -"

"Yet." Dean shook his head, before getting in the Impala. "You coming or what?"

"Fine," Cas grumbled, before, sitting down in the passenger seat. The car brought back memories, memories about too many things. The road trip, him being passed out in the back of the car after getting John free. "I see you still haven't thought about seatbelts. How safe of you."

"Not in baby," he stated, before starting the engine. "She's fine without them, thank you very much."

"You really haven't changed a bit," Cas sighed, before staring out of the window. Five years ago, he had been anxious about driving in a car without seatbelts, now, things were even worse. Now, the memories attacked him. Sitting in the car with his father, listening to an old tune on the radio, the crash. Even though his mother had asked, he never admitted that he remembered every second of the crash until he blacked out. He could see the glass shattering, could hear the screeching of the brakes. But worst of all, he could feel the impact when he had to spend too much time in the car. Even though he was physically fine, it still felt like he was right there for seconds, until somebody snapped him back to attention.

"What have you been up to Cas?"

"College," he said, glad for the distraction. "I've pretty much been working non stop the past couple of years." He realized how silly it all sounded. "School has been, though I guess. You?" Cas wasn’t one for small talk, but sometimes, it was needed.

"Killing demons, the usual," he said, before turning onto the parking lot of the grocery store. "It's been busy with dad being out of town as often as he is. We've been going through some rough times I guess, we always pull through though."

 

With Dean as close to him as he was, Cas couldn't just grab his beer and get on out, he had to take some other stuff too. He didn't want to pay for stuff that he probably wouldn't even eat. Probably, if Claire were to stop by in a month, most of it would still be in his fridge, untouched.

"So, what do you have at home?" Dean asked, looking over the fruits and vegetables. "You have the basics right? Some fruit? Vegetables? Water? That's what Sammy always wants anyway." He seemed to be wrecking his brain for something. “Meat? Do you have some of that? Damn. You should have taken Sammy with. He’s a foodie these days.”

"Not exactly," he sighed, "I have milk and cornflakes and that is it I think, I guess. I really don't even know. Maybe Claire and Adam brought something with them the other day." He shook his head slightly, "I didn't pay attention."

"When was the last time you even ate?" The words sounded sharp.

"I don't know," he said, honestly. "Yesterday? The day before?"

"We're getting some food into you," Dean announced, before taking over the shopping cart and heading over to the baked goods section of the store. The first things he loaded into the cart were two pies. "We need to get you fattened up Cas, you are a walking skeleton."

He led him through several isles, loading cookies, fruits, vegetables, everything on the cart. By the time that they reached the beverages isle, Cas was wobbling on his feet. Going shopping on an empty stomach was not a good idea, especially not after a half a bottle of whiskey. His legs felt shaky, as if he was close to collapsing. He could barely lift the six pack of beer or his muscles throbbed painfully. His lungs burned from all the walking around, he was forcing himself to be better than he was he realized, but he was too damn proud to take out the oxygen again. Cas tried to ignore the looks that Dean gave him, but couldn't.

"You okay?" Dean asked him, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. Cas hid away from it, almost out of habit. With Dean came memories of the fight, of the hospital stay. He could never trust Dean again, no matter how hard he had tried to be okay with it, how he had tried to walk next to Dean without wanting to get as far away from him as possible.

"I’m fine." Cas leaned heavily on the shopping cart. His breathing was shallow, laboured "Let's just go. Please.”

 

Back in the car, Dean handed Cas an apple to munch on for the ride. Every few minutes he glanced from the road to Cas's sunken face, staring out the window. Worry spiked through Dean's veins. Since when was he so frail? Even a little over an hour away, he had looked better. Every second, he seemed to sink deeper away from him.

But then, that was what addiction does to you. For Cas it was alcohol, whiskey. It was hard to miss the effects that it had had on him. In the five years that Cas had said that he had been in college working his butt off, Dean was sure there had been plenty of drinking. How had he even managed to survive that without ending up in the hospital?

"I'm tired, Dean," he heard him say, voice dragging. "So fucking tired of all of this shit. I have three more fucking weeks to get my sister to safety or she dies. You know, I spend the last five years giving everything that I have into research. All of that is wasted. I'm a mess, aren't I?" Dean knew that Cas was just talking because he was drunk, but paid attention to it anyway. He had realized that with Cas, the words he spoke when he was drunk were usually the truth. "The day we got into our fight, or whatever it was, that must have been the shittiest day I have had in my life so fucking far." He laughed, though it was a bitter one. "That was not my smartest move I have to admit. I shouldn't have decided to punch a grown and trained hunter in the face, learned that lesson the hard way.

"I do have to say though, waking up next to you was the highlight of that day, and that says a lot. Not that I didn't like that, I don't know. But then my _mom_ decided that I should know the truth about my scars and let me tell you, it is no good knowing things about the past." There was a short silence before he continued, voice downed with _something_. "The past eats you up Dean, lies do too and when they are both combined in one moment, well, something snaps inside of you. For some people, the past is golden but you know, I just wished that the past wasn't around anymore." Dean saw him take a hesitant bite from the apple. “Mom always lied to me, you know. Even in the hospital, she always lied and then, when you learn the truth, it’s like an avalaunch that goes over your body. Especially when you got me in the hospital. I couldn’t even blink without getting flashes of the live that I used to have.”

"You're home," Dean said, parking his car next to Cas's _thing._ "Let's get everything upstairs."

 

It took them only one walk upstairs to take the three grocery bags upstairs. Dean had taken the two heavier ones, watching Cas struggle with the one with all the veggies. It was almost like watching somebody who had walked on crutches forever walk normally again. Cas was out of balance and Dean could swear that he saw him almost fall a few times.

"You really need food," Dean announced after the door of the apartment was opened by Claire. "Let's cut up that pie, huh." The living room had been transformed with the presence of at least six big brown moving boxes, the table was overflowing with binders, papers, everything. "What the hell happened here? I thought you said that you were going through the research, not make his apartment a mess.”

"We cracked out Cas's research." Sam moved from behind some of the boxes. "Well, some of it. These are the things that we could carry. There's even more in his bedroom." Cas was just staring in the distance from the couch, face sunken.

"Five years’ worth," Cas said, "and I haven't found one freaking way to help." Dean put everything in their spots, before cutting up the pie and putting it in front of Cas.

"You eat. We’ll work."

 

They spend the rest of the day spitting through all of his research. After finishing his slice of pie, Cas chimed in to help too, as far away from Dean as he could be. The pie had helped him sober up a bit, enough for him to get his boundaries back and actually help the boys. His strength was coming back to him and his lungs seemed to be a little bit happier about all of it.

There seemed to be nothing there though. It was frustrating, only having one damn week left before the hell hounds would come for Claire and having no clue whatsoever how they would ever find a way to get her out the deal.

What they did figure out was how she would die, and it was no comforting image. He had read about the hell hounds before, but it had never caught his attention. When he had found it this time though, it almost shocked him. _The Bearer of Death is a term used in describing the Hell hound. Hell hounds have been said to be as black as coal and smell of burning brimstone. They tend to leave behind a burned area wherever they go. Their eyes are a deep, bright, and almost glowing red. They have razor sharp teeth, super strength and speed, and are commonly associated with graveyards and the underworld. Hell hounds are called The Bearers of Death because they were supposedly created by ancient demons to serve as heralds of death. According to legend, seeing one leads to a person's death._ This wasn't something that he could just shrug off and tell Claire.

"I'm going to get going," Claire said around five PM, "mom send me a text saying that dinner will be ready in a few."

"Sure," Cas said, yawning. He was already getting tired, even though he had barely been 'up' for a few hours. “Do you mind telling mom that I’ll be over during the weekend or something? I promised her to swing by to pick up the last of my stuff.”

"I'm going to go to the house too, Dean," Sam said, "I'd stay Cas, but I've got college stuff to do and the ultimate deadline is coming near so."

"No, go! Don't worry, I'll be fine." Cas almost suffocated as Sam came over to give him one awkward hug. He really was getting too tall for his own good.

"Please pull yourself together for Claire man, she worries about you.

"I know," he sighed sadly, before watching both Claire and Sam leave. The one who didn't leave though, was Dean. Even though he wanted from the bottom of his heart for Dean to leave, he seemed to be so goddamn set on staying that it was getting annoying. "Are you going to stay, or are you leaving too?"

"Somebody should get some food into you," he said with a shrug, "and I have learned how to make some killer burgers. You ain't starving on my watch."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have decided, as you may or may not have noticed, to use Cas instead of Cass. (: I'll be trying to post chapters every thrusday and friday, though I'm not sure if they'll be as long as this one.  
> If you guys could stop by my tumblr (bluetie-greeneyes.tumblr.com) if you have anything to say, that'd be the kindest thing that you can do. It would brighten my day.   
> But, everybody thank you for the kudo's after last chapter, they are really appreciated.


	12. Nightmare

Dean's burgers were okay, even though Cas's judgement probably wasn't the best. Lately, even a leather bag tasted better than most of the crap that he ate. Over the past couple of weeks, months maybe even the whole year, he hadn't eaten much that didn't come out of the microwave. He just couldn't muster up the energy to actually cook something for himself. In all of his work and with the alcohol that he drank, he surely wasn't interested in cooking pretty much anything. If it actually was the alcohol, he didn't know. All he knew was that he wasn't doing good, at all.

"Thanks, I guess," he said after reluctantly doing the dishes with Dean. He had never been a fan of cleaning up, there was a reason that he had used paper plates and plastic forks for a good while in college. Cas still felt unsure and weird around Dean, but it was getting better. He didn't feel as unsure as he had done before. Maybe was getting used to him again. "The burger was, good." He couldn't find another  word to use, his vocabulary limited for compliments.

“I guess I did learn some stuff at that diner,” Dean said with a smile, before drying off the plate that he was still holding, “even if I didn’t go to college or continue with school after high school.”

“Then where did you pick this up?” Cas asked, mainly surprised. He knew that Dean wasn’t the college type, but he had figured he had at least done something with his life except hunting things down.

“A diner I worked at for a while. Dad never leaves us with that much money and because I was getting older, he told me to go ahead and find myself a job to make sure that I didn’t have to steal and get caught again. He really didn’t appreciate me getting caught that one time when I was sixteen. He did have a point though, it was about time that I could bring some money home to Sammy and feed him without having to steal.”

“Again?” He couldn’t say that he was surprised about it, about Dean stealing, it was more the being caught part. He had thought that he would be a trained thief by now, able to steal stuff from people without them even noticing.

“Yeah, it was just once though. Dad didn’t leave us enough money I think, Sammy was starving, so I took out a gun and robbed somebody. I didn’t get away with it, but was send to this boy’s home. Farm work and everything. It wasn’t that bad, but it sure wasn’t ideal.” Dean shook his head at the memory.

“Aren’t I glad that I kind of listened to my parents when they wanted me to go to college.” He shook his head after finishing the last of the dishes. “Want a beer?”

“Sure.”

 

They sat down in front of the television, miles apart from each other. Cas couldn’t exactly keep his attention to the sitcom that was playing, he knew that there was some weird stuff going on but otherwise? He couldn't even tell you the names of the characters.

“Can I ask what happened to you, man? I mean, sorry for my choice of words, but you were messed up back then, but now? You’re a wreck.”

“Oh really, tell me what you really think,” Cas said sarcastically, turning to Dean, “a lot happened Dean. You don’t even want to know half of it. It’s a lot of wrong turns and fate working in very weird and harsh ways. But if you really want to know, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to tell you. Where do you want me to start?”

“Why you started beating me up in the first place.”

“Oh, yeah, sure, I guess that makes sense," Cas mumbled, slightly embarrassed. "After that morning, I guess something cracked inside of me. Waking up next to you with no recollection of what I did in the slightest or what had even happened that night. Damn, if I hadn't known you before, I probably wouldn't even have known your name. Mom wasn’t happy about that, about the alcohol and you staying over without a notice, about me breaking my curfew and being drunk. She told me that you had told her about the scars and that I told you that I have no recollection of where they come from and that it bothered me. I believe she put it like that. So she went ahead and told me the truth about what happened that night.

 “When I was seven or eight, me and my dad had a car accident. I broke quite a few bones, puntured one of my lungs, was just a broken body really. They would have put me in a coma if I hadn't fallen into a natural one. I had brain edema and some other stuff that caused my body to shut down. After a few months, they pronounced me dead. They told my parents that if the machines wouldn't have been there, I would have been long gone.

"There are moments that I still get flashes of memories you know. From being in a coma and seeing the people around me break down, hearing my mother read me stories so I wouldn't feel alone, Claire sleeping by my side in the hospital bed, stuff like that. Another thing I remember is the reaper coming for me. He wanted to take me and force me to pass on, but I wasn't ready for that yet. I told that thing that I wanted to watch my family for a bit, before saying goodbye for the last final time. I wanted to make sure that they were okay with it first.

“My mom made a deal to get me back to her, to get me back alive. Crowley I believe his name was, he erased all my memories of it all so that I could grow up ‘happily’.” He watched as Dean’s expression turned from Oh crap to pity. “I was so incredibly angry when she told me that all, angry because she hid everything from me for all those years. I went years without knowing all of the stuff that I do know now. So yeah, when I got to the pub, I was more than angry with her and you. You for probably a silly reason and my mother for a more serious reason, but it all mattered back then. I don't know why I was that stupid looking back on it."

“What for?”

“Because you told her that we weren’t dating, weren’t together, nothing. I remember your exact words: ‘Look, we are not dating, okay? We are not together, we are not in love, whatever you think that it is, because it is not. We were both drunk. Nothing happened at our road trip, because there was nothing that could happen.’ Whether you like hearing this or not, I don’t care, but I freaking loved you more than you realized. It kind of hurt to realize that you didn't have feelings for me in the slightest. I felt cheated on, betrayed. Used for just one night.

“So, when you told me that you were leaving, it pushed me off an edge that I had been walking for quite a while. I wasn’t exactly sober either at that point. That is why I punched you. All of that anger that I hoarded up inside, it had to come out at some point. I think, if I hadn't decided to go ahead and fight you, I may have things to myself. I think I might have hurt myself beyond fixing. Of our fight, all I remember is getting in the ambulance with somebody and going to the hospital.”

“That was Sammy,” Dean said, smiling in a way that he only did when he was talking about Sam, “I called him to vent about what happened. He ran over and called an ambulance within a second. He didn’t leave the waiting room until your family was there, just in case you would come round.”

“I should thank him,” Cas said, slightly embarrassed. “Well, after that happened, I was pretty much in the hospital for two weeks. Most of that time was because I could hardly breathe. Before our fight, my ribs had already been broken and because of you, they were pushing on my lungs, causing me to barely be able to breathe. They had me on a cannula until my ribs were back how they were supposed to be and my lungs fully healed. That was two months after that." Cas knew that he was lying to Dean about the cannula, but bringing up that he was still supposed to use it today wasn't exactly a good move. "I got better, my wounds healed but I still have the scars. You know, the ones in my face, my neck, they are all from the fight.

“And after, you know, all of it gets vague. I went to college and worked my ass off. I got addicted to alcohol, barely ate. All of that research that you see in there, in the boxes, I did while I was in law school. After I got my degree, now three days ago, I moved and wanted to continue living the way that I was living my life.” He shook his head. “So yeah, I’m a mess with nightmares and everything that comes with that, with flashbacks, with serious problems, but I don’t think that I care enough anymore you know?

“My sister is going to die in a week and there is no way that I can help her no matter how hard I try.” Cas wiped away a tear that had escaped from the corner of his eye. “If I am losing grip, I might as well let myself go already. I tried my fucking hardest to get her a solution, but it wasn’t enough. What kind of rubbish big brother am I?” He could see the sadness in Dean’s eyes, the guilt. “I am running away from all of my problems, but I am so fucking tired of it all you know. Sometimes I think to myself, you’ve got a week left and after that, you can let yourself go completely, because she won’t be around to care anymore. You know, I can’t even sleep anymore because I have so many nightmares of her dying. Last time I slept a good night of sleep, it must have been more than a year ago. Sometimes I think, well I might just fling myself off of this building. Nobody cares about me anyway.”

“Cas, she isn’t the only one that cares about you, you know that, right?”

“Who do you suggest Dean? My mom? My dad? I haven’t had a serious conversation with either of them in years. Hell, they even kicked me out of their freaking Christmas party. That really was showing me that they care about me and that they love me."

“Sam cares about you,” he said, looking him right in the eye. “He gave me crap about what I did to you, more than he has ever done. The boy barely talked to me for ages and I care Cas. I freaking care.”

“I wish I could believe -” Without letting him finish his sentence, Dean pulled him closer and hugged him tight. Cas wished that the hug didn’t bring him comfort or that it felt nice, he wished that he didn’t have to admit that he actually cared about Dean more than he wanted to admit to himself.

“You are not letting yourself go on my watch, you got me?” Dean said sternly. “You are still needed here. Don’t scare me like that man. I can't see you become more of a mess, okay?”

“You wanted to know,” Cas said, yawning. "You needed to know the truth? Well this is the fucking truth."

“Go to sleep.”

“I can’t fall asleep Dean,” he said, “if I fall asleep, I have nightmares. If I have nightmares I jolt awake and I get drunk. It’s a never ending cycle.”

“I’ll be here,” Dean promised. “I’ll keep you from drinking. Just get one night of good sleep. Your sister is worried about you pal, at least give her her healthy brother back for the last couple of days. Can you do that for me?”

“I’ll try,” he promised.

 

That night, Cas finally managed to fall asleep. The two of them sat in the sofa a while longer, just watching television. He didn’t know what their little conversation had done to him, but he felt more relaxed, even if it was just a little. Dean now knew what had all happened, he no longer needed to hide what he felt from him, scared of him finding out.

Eventually, he fell asleep with his head leaning against Dean’s shoulder. When Dean carried him to bed, he was still vast asleep. Normally, if anyone would have tried doing that he would have woken up, but with Dean, everything seemed to be different. Even though Dean could do a lot for him, he couldn’t keep the nightmares away, not fully. He might be able to tone them down, but he would never get full relieve.

Cas was trapped in a labyrinth. Instinctively, he knew that there was somebody in the middle, somebody that he had to find and rescue. He didn’t even care who it was, all he knew was that he had five minutes to get to the centre of the labyrinth or that person would die.

It wasn’t the first time that he had this dream, it was one of the few that plagued him over and over again. No matter how much he hurried, how long he ran, he could never get his sister who was in the centre, or his mother. It always was somebody else that got hurt on his account.

This time, he did get further. He was in the final stretch. he could see the opening to the centre, where two people were being held this time. He couldn’t see who it was, but knew that he didn’t want to know, that he wasn’t okay.

“Your time is up, Castiel Novak.” The robotic voice came from the speakers all around him. “Say goodbye to the ones you love, you know they’re here.”

“Cas!” It was his sister’s all too familiar scream, before a gunshot sounded and he could see the blood run down the walls next to him.

“Don’t you fucking bastard. Cas! Goddamn it.” This was new. Dean had never been here, he had never been in his dreams. “You won’t -” He could hear Dean yell as he sprinted forward. Before the opening to the room closed, he could see Claire laying on her side, blood steadily flowing from a wound in her head. But what hurt him the most about the whole dream, because it was new, was seeing Dean collapse.

His feet carried him to where Dean lay eyes open, blood pouring down from a wound in his chest. Dean’s arms scratched at it, tried to stop the bleeding, trying to get the bullets out.

“Dean!” he almost yelled as pulled him in his arms. “Don’t you dare give up, okay?” He pushed his jacket to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Maybe he could stop the bleeding, maybe Dean would live. Maybe he wouldn’t be dead like Claire. Maybe, maybe, maybe, he needed more than maybes.

“Cas.” Dean’s voice was barely more than a whisper. He could see the strain in his eyes, the way that he tried to hold on.

“Don’t you dare give up,” he whispered, tears in his eyes. “God damn Dean. I just gave up being angry and terrified of you, please don’t die now. I need you.” He felt Dean take his last breath with Cas’s arms wrapped around him tight.

 

He of course, woke up crying and screaming. He fought against the blankets around him, trying to hide his face in his pillow. There were warm arms around him, the familiar scent of Dean filling the room around him. He clutched at the shirt, so happy not to see blood on his shirt or anything else.

“Shh, it’s okay. You had a nightmare.” Cas clutched at Dean, for a moment glad that he was still there, that he was still breathing. He pulled him tight, crying in his shoulder. Cas knew that he was ruining Dean’s shirt, but Dean didn’t seem to care, not really.

He pulled back when he was sure that there were no more tears, slightly embarrassed.

“You better?”

“Yeah.” Light filtered in through the curtains that barely held back any light. There was a busy chatter coming from the living room, voices he knew all too well. Sam and Claire, the weirdest duo ever, if they could even be called a duo.

“Thanks Dean.”

“Don’t worry about it.” For once in well, forever, he felt a little bit better. The grieve that he usually felt was there, but barely. He wasn’t the wreck that he usually was, he could actually breathe for a change. That, though that beer that he had put in the fridge yesterday was more than welcome. That was the big problem between him and the beer. He needed it to survive a little longer than he normally would.

“Why don’t you come join us in the living room? We were waiting for you to wake up. There are eggs cooking on the stove and some bacon.” Lazily, Cas followed Dean into the living room, no matter how bad he looked. At least he wore the clothes that he had yesterday. Dean had probably not wanted to change him in his PJ’s, something he understood. If he had been in his boxers and a shirt, it would have been way more ashamed than he was now.

“Sleeping beauty awakes,” he heard Claire say as he walked in the room. In the kitchen, Sam was keeping an eye on the eggs, almost scared that they would jump out and attack him. Cas had to bite back a laugh when he saw him turn a piece of bacon and it almost landed on the floor.

"Good morning to you too, Claire," he shrugged, before heading to the fridge for his beer. That, until a spatula hit his hands. Dean had a relaxed smile on his lips after having taken over the skillet from his brother.

"Breakfast before alcohol,” Dean said, almost lecturing him. “Sit down.” Careful not to get hit by the spatula again, he sat down, watching Dean manoeuvre around in the kitchen with ease.

“Exactly how long have you worked at that diner?”

“A month,” was Dean’s answer, before sliding a plate in front of him, “now, eat.”

 

Cas ate in silence, watching the others read through some papers. He wanted to help them, but he didn’t want all of his previous work to me for nothing just because he touched everything with his greasy fingers. He did look over Dean's shoulder though, who had taken a seat next to him. Dean’s shirt was soaked with his tears.

Claire was getting more nervous with the day, Cas realized when he looked up at her. She was tabbing her fingers against the binder again and again, her eyes closed way more often than all of them together in at least five minutes.

"Here's something," Sam said, finger trailing down a page that Cas had handwritten, frowning. "Oh, no, no it's nothing. Sorry."

 

They spend their entire next three days like this. Days of going through everything that Cas had on demons, stashed in his little apartment. There was nothing that they could find though, even though the four of them worked together, there seemed to be no way. The only thing that Sam stumbled past was something that they couldn't rely on working, or any of them actually _wanted_ to try.

"Here's something," Sam said, finger trailing down a page that Cas had handwritten. "If the name of the demon is known, there is a possibility of maybe breaking the deal if you are lucky. Certain demons are likely to break deals when they are trapped in a devil's trap. If you have a less important demon it is likely to work. More important demons or more powerful demons will be less likely to do this." Cas remembered copying it down from a big handbook somewhere in a library, but nothing else. At the time, it had seemed a complete impossibility because they didn't know who it was that had gotten its' hands on Claire's soul. "You wrote 'name?' next to it. Claire, do you know which demon it was that closed your deal?"

"Maybe," she said, "I think it was the same demon that my mom closed the deal with because he was kind of crabby. If mom remembers?" She looked insecure. "I could call her and see but it is kind of at touchy subject.

"That's Crowley. Mom, told me," Cas said, "but how do we summon him? I mean, it's great that we know his name now, but won't he notice it if we are trying to trap him in a devil's trap?"

"Leave that to us," Dean said, "I'll call Bobby. See if he knows him. We don't really have time." Bobby had never heard of Crowley and when Sam tried calling his father, he too had never heard of him.

 

_Three days left_

He knew that Claire was giving up her hopes when she called him instead of coming over, told them to stop what they were doing. Hearing her say the actual words made his own hope falter.

“But come on Claire!” he almost yelled. “You can’t just stop looking for a cure! We need to help you.” _Please don’t die Claire, please don’t die._

“I don’t know what to say Cas,” she said. In the background, he could hear her walking around, pacing back and forth. “What do you want me to say? I know that y’all have tried your best, but sometimes, I don’t know. There is a reason that I want you to stop, okay? I know that I am going to die and I want to get ready to do so. Can you do that for me? Please?” There was a quiver in her voice. “Can you please stop looking for a cure. I need to find my peace with dying, I want to say goodbye.”

“Claire?” His own words faltered. He tried to speak, but nothing good would roll off his lips.

“I’m sorry Cas. I really am.”

 

Dean had just arrived without Sam, saying that Sam wanted to finish his last stuff for the college admissions. Sam had been working so hard to get something to happen, to find something that Castiel didn’t even mind the slightest bit. The kid had deadlines coming up anyway.

"That makes it the two of us," Cas sighed after hanging up the phone, "Claire just called. She wants us to stop the research. She says that she just wants to give up." The words caused Cas to tear up, break a little bit inside. "She doesn't want us to bargain for her life anymore. She said that she needs time to accept that she is going to die."

"Are you going to listen to her?" It was almost as if Dean wasn’t surprised, as if he was expecting something like this. “Or do you want to keep on looking?”

"I don't know," he sighed, "maybe? I don't want to, but you know, if she doesn't want us to fight for her life? I don't know what we can do to change her mind.” He shook his head. His sister was incredibly stubborn sometimes, too stubborn for her own good. Just like the way that he had once said that Dean was too stubborn when he was drunk. “Do you think that we can make things easier for her, you know?"

"We'll try," Dean promised, before sitting back behind the binders in the kitchen table. "So, we are looking for anything to make the process of dying easier for her?"

Cas had to swallow before speaking. "Yes." Saying the words out loud made his skin crawl. “Anything we can do to help her, to make it easier.”

 

The two of them buried themselves in work that day. It was the only way that Cas could cope with it all. His sister was just giving up on her life, even though she always told him that he had to hang on, that he couldn’t give up his own fight. How about her fight? About, about her surviving? Wasn’t that important to her? He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that she just gave up. It wasn't like her.

She had always been a fighter. No matter how though situations got, she always got through them or helped others get through them. She never gave up no matter how hard the situation got. It wasn’t like her.


	13. Five years is nowhere near enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am just going to give everybody a heads up and warn you. This chapter is one with possible triggers. If you feel triggered by violent scenes [somebody dying], suicidal thoughts and/or alcohol abuse, reading is at your own risk.

Castiel wanted to punch something, get his anger out, but there was no way. He couldn't do that now, he couldn't go ahead and screw up now, not with Claire already as nervous as she was. Not with Dean on the other side of the telephone line. He had left his cell set on speaker next to him, so that the boys could follow what was happening. Dean had asked to do that, said he needed to be there. Whether it was to help Cas or something else, he didn't know. He just allowed it, too thorn up inside to care.

Claire sat in the corner of the motel room, staring at the distance. They had only minutes now, but Cas wanted to be here for her. He wanted to say _something_ that would make it all okay, something that would help ease her mind, but knew that nothing would help her calm down. Claire was Claire and she had always been a frail, skinny little thing, nervous about everything that happened in her life.

"I don't want to be thorn up, Cassie," she whispered under her breath. Dean had tried to talk him out of this, being here while the hell hound came for her, but he needed to be there. If what they had read up on was right, there was no way that she would come out of this looking pretty. He couldn't let her die alone. No matter what he said out loud, family was something that he deemed important, being there for the people around him, being there for Claire.

"I know," he whispered under his breath, "I know."

The clock announced that they only had two more minutes left. He didn't know what was happening, but he sensed Claire tense up. There were tears in her eyes as she looked up at him, closer to crying that she had been in ages. Carefully, he sat down next to her, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder. He felt tears splash on his shirt.

"Do you want me to tell you a story?" he asked her, not knowing any other way to comfort her. He didn't wait for her to answer him, knowing that she wouldn't anyway. "It's a story that happened a while ago. You just turned two at the time and I was six or seven, it was a little while before the accident happened. I remember you sitting in your highchair with the biggest smile on your lips, toying with the edges of the table runner. You had just woken up from your nap and it was time for your birthday cake. Mom and dad had bought this tiny little cake, with mickey on it I believe. You couldn't stop laughing at it, pointing at the candle as mom lit it. For a while, you just stared at it, before laughing louder and blowing it out. You clapped your hands.

"Then, when you got your present, you just took it in your hands and gave it to me to unwrap. I remember because it was a teddy bear and you pretty hugged it non-stop after. That day was the first day that you said _Cassie._ I remember you crawling out of your crib with your teddy bear and walking over to my room. You would pull the blankets from my body, throw your teddy on my face and wait for me to wake up. Every night, I lifted you up and you slept curled next to me. Mom thought it was annoying as hell, but dad only laughed at it."

"I remember that," she said, voice tight. "Because when you had your accident, there suddenly was nobody to pick me up. I learned to crawl into beds that year." She shook her head. "When you were in a coma, mom would allow me to sleep while she read to you. Those old beat up classics in your room? She read each and every one of them again and again until you woke up." She actually laughed. "I remember you quoting Jane Eyre first thing when you woke up."

"I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.”  Cas laughed now too. "Yeah, I guess that one stuck with me."

_There were only a few seconds left now. Cas_ tried not go let his eyes dart from the clock, tried not to do so, but he couldn't.

"I'm here, Claire," he whispered, trying to hold back his tears. That was when she tensed up completely, when the door flew open. "I'm right here for you." He felt her take his hand in hers and squeeze it tight.

"It is here, Cassie," she whispered, voice tight. "It's horrible."

 

At first, when the hell hound attacked, it seemed to be over in a second. Because he wasn't the one under attack, he didn't even see it happen, just saw the marks its' claw left on her leg. She was terrified, her body all tense, ready to fend of anything even though she couldn't. Her blood started welling up. She never cried, never yelled for help. Her head rested in Cas's lap as blood welled up from new cuts. They were so deep, deeper than the scratches of any animal or thing he had encountered.

"I'm right here, Claire, I'm staying here until the end, you can count on me," he whispered, brushing his thumb across her hair. She looked so terrified as she looked up at him, eyes wide and filled with tears.Without even thinking about the fact that Dean was listening along to their conversation, he silently sung the song that had always calmed Claire down, had always gotten her to sleep. "Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly." His voice sounded broken, awful. "All your life, You were only waiting for this moment to arise. Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these sunken eyes and learn to see. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to be free." He could feel her breathing flatten out, how hushed it became. "Blackbird fly, blackbird fly, into the light of the dark black night. Blackbird fly, blackbird fly, into the light of the dark black night."

Cas no longer felt her breathe, there was no more breath going in and out of her lungs. It was sobbing that he finished the song. "Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise." Her body went limp in front of him, her head rolling to the side. "You can go to sleep now, Claire bear, I promise I won't wake you up, _not anymore._ "

All he could see in front of him was her thorn up body, her blood pooling in scratches in the floor. In front of him was not more than a shell of what she once was.

"She's gone Dean," he whispered, closer to crying than he had been in ages. "My baby sis is gone."

 

When Dean and Sam found him, he was cradling her body in his lap, tears streaming down his face. He didn't even know how late it was anymore, all he knew was that her body was going cold in his arms and her blood was stuck to almost every piece of clothing that he wore. He only wished that he cared, but he didn't. Not at all.

Through the haze of tears, he didn't even recognize the two boys. All he could see was the faint outline of bodies, coming closer and closer.

"No!" he yelled at them, cradling her closer to his body. "You are not taking her away from me! Stay back! Stay back god damn!" New tears drizzled down his face. He could see the taller figure backing off.

"Dean," a familiar voice said, "maybe we should -"

"Give us a minute Sammy." Dean. Sam. The Winchesters. They were safe, weren’t they?

Dean crouched in front of him, unsure. Cas looked up at him, eyes red from crying. "She's gone, Dean." His voice was no louder than a whisper, but broken. He himself could hear it. "There was nothing that I could do once the scratches started bleeding. I couldn't." He bit his lip, trying to keep the words from stumbling out. "I tried to stop the bleeding, I tried to stop it, but I couldn't. There is so much blood, there is blood everywhere."

"We got to bring her somewhere safe, Cas," Sam said from across the room, where his phone was still open on the conversation. "We can't stay here."

"I can't say goodbye to her," he whispered. He felt like he was glass shards inside, there was nothing whole anymore. Every bit of his brain, of his lungs, all of it was turned into rubble. "Not yet, not now, not like this. I can't say goodbye to my sister Dean. She's the world to me."

"You don't have to say goodbye, Cas." Dean's voice was soothing to him, calm. "I promise, okay? We just got to bring her somewhere safe Cas. Like we said, we need to bring her to the hospital. They'll make the bleeding stop, they'll make all of the blood go away."

"Okay." He took a deep breath, lungs hurting from the lack of air. "Okay."

 

The car ride to the hospital was more painful to Cas than any time that he had ever been through, period. He had wanted to go in his beaten up car, so that he wouldn't think about it as much. Now he realized how much of a mistake it was. Dean was driving while Sam took the Impala back home. Cas sat in the bag, his arms wrapped tightly around his sister. He absently stroked her hair, looked at her ashy face and tried to imagine her happy again, smiling again.

They had come up with a story that they would sell to the hospital with Claire. They had made sure that Claire agreed with it, so that she wouldn't feel too bad about it. Mainly so that Cas wouldn't feel too bad about it. They would say that they were attacked by a bear. They would say that the bear went after his sister and that they couldn't escape it, that they only managed to chase off the bear when she had already been hurt gravely.

All of it felt so terribly wrong. Not the lying, that felt right, no matter how fucked up that was. Her lying limp in his arms, that was what was wrong. So terribly wrong. She should still be alive. She should be sitting next to him, breathing. They should be going home and laugh about all that happened, instead of him cradling her corpse. She should be breathing, there should be a simple, slight up and down movement of her chest, but there wasn't.

And there never would be. Never again.

 

The ICU was too quiet, too calm. When the doctors rushed off with Claire on a stretcher, seeing if they could get her back, Cas wasn't allowed to go with. The doctor had said that they needed to work on her, that a nurse would come back with some questions about her.

Now he didn't have her with him, the weight of the loss weighed down on him like a brick. Before, it had seemed less real. He could still imagine that this was all a sick joke. Now that she was gone, she was actually gone.

"What is her name?" the nurse asked him first.

"Claire Novak." He answered the questions on automatic pilot, the answers simple and easy. She was seventeen, her birthday was the sixth of September, she had blood type AB+. No, she had never been in an accident before. Yes, she had been alive when they brought her in. Yes, he had seen it happen.

Retelling the story while the nurse took note was the hardest thing that he had to do by far. He saw it all play in front of his eyes again, could see every single movement.

 

The plastic chairs were nothing comforting. He was just waiting on them to come back and say that he had to come back and say goodbye. The chairs were cold, uncomfortable, hard to sit on. He almost couldn't stand sitting on them for more than a few minutes. He kept getting back up to pace around.

If he was honest, he needed Dean to be there with him, even though he had said not to come in. He needed the help, the support that he offered. Cas didn't care that only a few days ago he had never wanted to see Dean again. All that was before, the love that he had felt for him, it was resurfacing, starting to come back. Naturally, not everything came back at ones. It hid him in waves, one moment he hated a guy and the other second, he saw the smile on his lips and thought about how much he loved the look of those lips.

It was with a heavy heart that he dialed Dean's number. "Dean, I, I need you." There were tears in his voice. "Can you please come in?" It was a huge sacrifice for him to admit that he needed somebody like Dean, who was there and could help him. He had always been so independent, he never needed anybody in his life to support him. Now, he needed Dean. Dean of all people.

Dean was there before he got the chance to sit back down on the chair. "I was pacing around outside," he admitted with a shrug. For some reason, it brought the tiniest of smiles to his face. It was gone soon enough.

"They've taken her inside, but I think that they'll be back out soon enough."

"Are you somewhat okay?" Cas knew that he was worried, he knew that he was probably supposed to lie and tell him that he was okay with it, that he was okay with her being gone now, that it was better this way, but he couldn't. He couldn't lie anymore, he couldn't get the energy to say that he was fine. His sister was back in that hospital room while they tried their best to get her back, even though she was already gone.

"No." He swiped a tear out of his eye. "Not at all." The tears came back faster and faster as he tried to keep them out of his eyes. Dean threw an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close to him. It was the first time that he had done anything of the kind since, well, since they had spend the night together five years ago. "I'll just miss her so damn much." He sobbed against Dean's shoulder. Big, violent sobs that took his breath out him. “I’ll miss her so damn much Dean.” He bit his lip, trying to stop his tears from coming. “You know, even though I did get to say goodbye, it feels like there were so many things that I still wanted to tell her. That I love her.”

Dean pulled him closer. “Hey, it’s okay to miss her.” His words were silent, only meant for him. “But try to stay a little bit positive, even if it is just for me. When the doctors come back, you can see her again. And, damn Cas, she knew that you loved her. She even said that you probably loved her too much for everything that you did for her.”

The minutes crept by as he stayed in Dean’s embrace, breathing in Dean’s scent. He wouldn’t have done it if he wasn’t as broken as he was. Cas almost felt as if each and every shard of his heart was no more than rubble in his bones.

“We’re afraid that your sister was dead upon arrival,” the doctor said when they came back fifteen minutes after taking her inside. “We tried to work on her, but her wounds were too grave. If you want, you can go see her now.” The doctor nodded at Dean. “Only family can come in.”

“I’ll wait outside,” Dean said, pushing Cas up, “you go see her. You got to say goodbye."

“Do you want to go with, please?” he didn’t like begging, but he was unsure how much more of a wreck he would be if there was nobody around. “I... I really do not want to be alone with her. Please.”

“But I’m not family Cas.”

“I don’t care,” he said, pulling Dean up. “From now on you’re our brother. If anyone asks, you're my brother.”

 

The hospital room that they had put her in was too cold, too white, too sterile. The disinfectant stung in Cas's nose. It was everything that Cas didn't want to see Claire in. She deserved to have a warm room, surrounded by people that she loved, not this. He sat down in one of the chairs next to the bed, taking one of her hands in his. It was cold, numb. The last of her warmth was leaving her body.

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise," he whispered to her, tears stinging in his eyes. "You fly my little blackbird, you escape the pitch black darkness." He shook his head slightly, overrun with memories. "She loves that freaking song. When she was ten, she wouldn't go to sleep without me singing it to her." He smiled. “She knows the song by heart.”

"I heard you sing it to her, back there."

“She was tense,” he whispered. “I needed her to relax a little bit, you know. She had to know that she wasn’t alone in all of this, that I’ll always be there for her. Even ...” Cas had to take a deep breath. “Even in death. I just hope that she knows that, that I’ve always been here and that I always will be here for her.” The sadness weighed down on his chest, cutting him from breathing in properly. “Oh god.” He couldn’t do anything but take shallow breaths, his sobs stopping him from breathing.

“Cas,” Dean said, crouching in front of Cas again, taking Cas’s hand and putting it on his chest. “In and out okay? Nice and steady, nice and calm. Just follow the rhythm of my breaths, can you do that?” Cas could see the worry in Dean’s eyes, hated the look of it in his apple green eyes. “Cas. Follow my breathing.”

“I just can’t believe that she is dead Dean,” he winced. “Over the past couple of weeks, damn it, months, years even, I have barely seen her! I feel like I didn’t even know her anymore, even though she is my freaking sister!”

“It’s okay,” Dean said, “calm down, it’s okay. Shh.”

 

When Cas’s parents arrived, he knew that his sister wasn’t alone, not anymore. His parents would be the only ones who knew that she had died because of a deal that she made, they were the only people who would eventually know too. This was their secret, nobody needed to know.

He had been wanting to leave that room for at least a half an hour when they arrived, so he took his shot at freedom. Dean followed him down the halls, onto the parking lot.

During the whole drive home he stared out the window, think, probably crying a little too. He didn’t even realize it anymore when the tears started and when the tears stopped, he was too damn used to them. Somewhere during the drive, when he had been crying, Dean had put his hand on Cas’s knee, giving it a little squeeze. Cas knew that it meant that Dean cared, that he was sorry for him, but it didn't reassure him, not the slightest. If anything, it made him slightly uncomfortable.

Once, there had been a time when he would have liked this, sitting with Dean close to him, even after the fight, he probably wouldn’t have minded it as much as he seemed to do now. Something had changed in him, made everything different, wrong.

“I’ll warm you up some soup,” Dean said when they had arrived at the apartment. “You shouldn’t be alone right now. I know you too well.”

“Thanks, but you really don’t have to, I can take care of my own.” Cas was starting to get scared that Dean would be feeling forced to help him, while he didn’t want that at all. He wanted Dean to stick around, yes, but not if he felt forced to do so.

"Like I said, I know you too damn well," Dean said, "If I don't come back to check on you, you'll be drunk." Cas wished that Dean wasn't telling the truth, but he wasn't lying. If he were to be alone for a while, the chance that Cas would be sober when he got the time to drink was probably inexistent.

 

He really did appreciate Dean allowing him to curl up on the couch while Dean warmed up the canned soup. All he did was stare at the television screen without paying attention to what was playing. All he knew was that somebody had been murdered and it wasn't pretty to look at. Murder was never pretty to look at, no matter what you believe or what you have gone through.

"Here you go," Dean said, passing him a steaming bowl of chicken soup. Cas scooted over on the couch, so that Dean could sit next to him instead of sitting by himself at the kitchen table.

"Thank you, Dean."

"Don't worry about it Cas," Dean said after swallowing down his soup, "everybody can warm up canned soup."

"Yeah, but you are the only one here," he sighed. "It's just weird, you know? Look at all those boxes filled with research on deals, they are worthless now. I might as well burn all of it."

"Maybe it'll come in handy one day. You've worked on that shit for five years, don't you think that it would be wasted? If you just threw all of it away?"

“Yeah, but where do you suggest that I stack it? I’ve got no place to keep it here.”

“I’ll call a friend of my father’s later. He’ll probably know what to do,” Dean said, a gentle smile on his lips. “He’s hoarding a ton of books and everything. He’s the one we call when we need information on something.”

“Okay.” Cas pulled his eyes to the screen. He could barely keep his eyes open now that he wasn’t hungry anymore. He hadn’t even known that he was really hungry, he hadn’t felt the nagging sensation of hunger in his stomach, hadn’t been light headed, hadn’t been anything. Maybe that was what happened when you grieved. That had been the case when his mother had once died, that had been the same way when Noah announced that he was done. “I’m tired.”

“Why don’t you go to sleep? I’ll clean up.”

“I’ll only have nightmares,” he sighed, “and you knows what happens when I have nightmares, you saw me wake up from one.”

“Yeah, what did you dream about? I’ve been curious ever since.” Cas took a deep breath, before placing his still half-filled bowl of soup on the coffee table. He had never liked talking about his nightmares, not to anyone. Even Claire never knew about them.

“You're going to think that it's silly," he said, "it is silly." Dean stayed silent, wanting to hear the story. "It is a recurring nightmare that I've had for a few years now. It always starts the same. I am standing in this labyrinth and for some reason, I don't know why, I know that I have to find the centre of it, that there is something important there. I have five minutes. I run my ass of, every single fucking time, but it is never good enough. Usually, I hear Claire scream when I get close enough and she dies. Is start running faster and see her dead corpse laying on the ground, her eyes wide open, just staring. She's always staring at me.” He shook her head. “Always staring up at me with accusing eyes.”

“But the last time, it was different?”

“Yeah. You got shot too or stabbed, I can’t remember. But I saw you being killed too, I could see your body. You freaking died in my arms Dean.” He shook his head, scared of the memory. “That is why I wouldn’t let your shirt go I guess, because you were alive again.”

“Oh, that explains a lot. You know Sam laughed at me for that? For being your human teddy bear. Yeah, well, I guess that it does kind of make sense huh?”

“I guess.” He felt his eyelids droop. “Is there some coffee? I don’t want to sleep.”

“I’ll see,” Dean said, before getting up and checking the blissfully empty thermos. Great, so he’d have to sleep. “Is there any other way that you’ll stay awake?”

“Not really, unless you want to scare the crap out of me, that would work too,” Cas said, trying to form a smile on his lips but failing. “I’ll just try to stay awake.”

“You know Cas, if you want to,” Dean said, looking up at him with an almost insecure look in his eyes. “I will stay.” There was a tense silence between the two of them. “I’ll help you keep your nightmares at bay.”

“Thank you.” Cas bit his bottom lip. “I mean it, for like everything that happened today, thank you. I don’t think I’d have gotten through all of it alone.”

“That’s okay. Just go to sleep.” Cas settled himself on the couch, not wanting to sleep in his bed, where his sister had spent the last night. It would only bring back more memories.

“Sit up for a second,” Dean said after finishing the dishes. Cas had dozed of once or twice, shotguns from the television show waking him up each time. He had been close to dozing off again even though the worst of it was through now.

Dean squeezed himself in the tiny spot that he had left, putting a pillow on his legs. “Use me as a pillow.”

 

It was the best night of sleep that Cas had gotten in ages. Somewhere a little while after CSI ended, Dean had started running his hands through Cas’s hair, thinking that he was asleep. It had helped him sleep, helped him forget everything that had happened through that day.

When he woke up somewhere early next morning, Dean was asleep too, his head resting against the backing of the couch. If anything, Cas was sure that it wasn’t comfortable, damn no, he had slept that exact way the previous night.

He knew that he should probably get up, call his parents to see how they were doing, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away from Dean and the relaxed expression in his eyes. It was seldom that he looked this relaxed, sunlight filtering through his hair and his lashes. Damn, if Dean woke up, it would get awkward if he realized that Cas was staring at him.

Cas sneaked out of the couch, trying his hardest not to wake Dean up as he collected his package of cigarettes and the bottle of whiskey. Exactly as he had done the day that the Winchester boys arrived in town, he hid in the bathroom.

 

Ice cold wind filtered in through the bathroom window even though it was August. Even during the summer months, the weather was horrible at four AM. If he didn’t though, the smoke alarm would start ringing and the whole flour would be awake. This way, the smoke could go outside and he could think, he got a chance to wake up a little.

Cas was the stereotype of a grieving man in movies. He realized that as he opened up the bottle and took two or three sips after each other. The all too familiar amber gold felt like ice running down his body. It was what he needed. The oblivion of alcohol nagging on his memories, the calm that it brought almost like a heaven.

For years, he had been drinking alcohol like it was water running down a tab. Just because Dean and Sam were now here, didn’t mean that he could just let it go like that. He needed time to adjust to it all, adjust to being sober a little more often. He knew that Dean would like it if he stopped drinking, but fact was, he couldn’t.

Just like the smoking, drinking was a habit that he couldn’t kick. He knew that the decision to start smoking was a terrible one for his frail lungs. Already, he could feel the change in his lungs, in the way that they either chose to work or chose to stop working sometimes. That was why he had been barely able to catch a breath in the hospital, because his lung capacity was small and getting smaller. His lungs were starting to act like crappy lungs.

The smoke burned in his lungs, before he breathed it out again, blowing it out of the window. There were moment in his life that he just thought, ‘why don’t I just jump out of it?’ and well, this was certainly one of those moments. This was one of these days that he was having a tough time with all of the emotions that he felt.

Cas had never been good with emotions. Even when he was a kid, he had found it hard to show other people his emotions. That was why it had been a surprise for him when Dean walked in his life and he could be open about them to him the way that he had never done before. Not even Claire knew how he felt as well as Dean.

Not even Claire knew.

Thinking about her was both hard and needed at the same damn time. He needed to think about her, needed to remember her, but it hurt. Seeing the memories play inside his mind. It was hard to see six year old Claire walk in through the doors with a smile on her face.

“Cassie? Do you want to sing me to sleep?” He could hear her say the words without any troubles, they were clear in his mind. Each time, he would say the exact same thing and each time she would be more than happy and excited about it.

“Sure Claire Bear. Which song do you want? Blackbird?” Cas didn’t even know how she had come to like the song as much as she did. All he knew that he had been listening to it almost without stopping for a few months when she was still a baby. Amelia had hated him for it, because each time she had fallen asleep and would hear the song, she would open up her eyes and start wriggling around, trying to get closer to the sound that she heard. Sometimes she even started screaming.

“God damn Claire,” Cas cussed, taking another sip from the bottle. Up until this day, he had always said that Claire was his reason not to jump out of the window. She was the reason that he held on even though he couldn’t see an end to the darkness that surrounded him. What was his answer now? Who did he have to fight for now? For who did he want to stay alive and wake up the next morning?

His mother? That was out of the question. There was no way that he would fight for his mother, not after everything that had happened. If it hadn’t been for his mother, he might not be alive or maybe still hooked up to machines, but his sister would never have to make the deal.

He could remember it all like it was yesterday. The suicide of their mother. He could remember walking in the bathroom because his mother had told him to bring the clean towels upstairs that had just come out of the drier.

He remembered going in the bathroom and wanting to run away the second that he saw her body sprawled in the bathtub. He remembered screaming for his father to come in now. But most of all, he remembered how much it had scarred him.  How he hugged her body to his, her blood staining his clothes.

The first month, he didn’t sleep. Every time that he closed his eyes for more than a few seconds, he could see her in front of him again. He could see the blood that covered each part of her body, the cuts along her arms. He could even tell you the exact knife that she had used to do it.

After, it got a little bit better, but still, Cas never was the same again.

Hanging on to his life for his father was nothing that he would do either. His father had supported him, yes, but the last couple of years, he had made it clear that if he was going to show up drunk at Christmas parties and if he was going to make trouble, that he no longer was a part of the family.

His father hadn’t even called on his birthday to wish him a happy birthday. He didn’t seem to care that his son had turned the big twenty-one, that he was a completely legal adult with taxes to pay and everything. He didn’t even get a note when he turned twenty-two either. Cas was pretty sure that he wouldn’t get nothing when he turned twenty-three in a few days either. No, his father wasn’t a person that he wanted to hang onto in life. For as much as he wanted to say that he was indeed hanging on for at least one person in his family, he couldn’t say that he did.

Then who did he have left to fight for? Nobody. There was nobody that needed him in their lives. Everybody could go on with what they were doing without him, without being hurt because of his passing. Maybe, they would be upset for a little while, but it wouldn’t last long. Nobody cared enough about him to care about it.

Everybody would go on with their lives with ease, maybe with the exception of Dean. It surprised him how much it hurt to think what Dean would do if Cas killed himself. Before, he hadn’t realized just how much he cared about him, but the past couple of days it had become clear to him. He did care.

With the thought of Dean on his mind, he put down the bottle, pushed out his cigarette and closed the window. Maybe he would survive another day if he tried. Maybe, with Dean there, there was a reason to smile today, or to at least not cry.

 

Not crying worked out until eight AM, when he couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. He had been foolish, he had walked in his bedroom where Claire’s PJ’s were still lying at the foot of the bed, neatly folded the way that only Claire could and would leave her stuff. He hugged the shirt to his torso, taking in her smell, a smell that he missed so much. So freaking much.

When he closed his eyes, he could see her stare at him again, could see her terrified expression. He could see how much she really had been struggling, her gasping breaths as the hellhound left scratches on her torso. Most of all, he could hear how she had been sobbing quietly. The day before, he hadn’t even noticed it, but now it was awfully clear.

“Claire,” he whispered broken. His voice was no louder than the wind gushing outside. “Claire.” The tears fell and kept coming. The tidal wave of sadness hit him, it hit him like he had never expected anything to affect him. He was pulled under, deep in the raging sea. “I love you Claire. I loved you Claire.” His sobs turned more hysterical, the breath escaped him.

 

Cas couldn’t tell anyone what grieve felt like. Each time, it was different. One time, it would be soft, nagging in the back of his mind and then only a few minutes later sometimes, it would be a dark cloud hovering over him.

Today was a thunderstorm. It was as if there was a cloud hanging above his head, pressing all of the memories deeper into his skull, making it impossible to forget anything. All the memories, everything that he had ever done with Claire came raining back in. Every time that she had smiled, every time that she was sad.

Especially memories of the past couple of weeks rained back in, the times in which she had been sad. The moments that she had been scared and cries because she didn’t want to die, because she was too young to die. When Claire had stayed at his place the other night, he had heard her cry, scream almost. Even though she acted brave about it all, that was his clue to know that she wasn’t having as easy a time as he thought that she had.

 

_Dean_

_Today is a rainstorm. If I could, I would explain it to you, but I don’t think that I can. I wished that I could though, that somehow I could make you understand why I am doing this. I don’t think that you will ever be able to understand. Not until the day that Sam dies in your arms. A day that I hope will never come._

_Is it just me, or am I drowning? Drowning in the rain that is pouring down from the raincloud that bares the names: Claire, regret and mistakes._

_I guess that I have been for a little while now. I guess that even though I don’t realize it, I have been in so much more trouble that I like to admit. Maybe I am just stubborn, as you like to say or maybe this is something deeper._

_Ever since that night that you almost got me in a coma Dean, something snapped inside of me. Something broke and I think, honestly, that it is broken beyond repair. I am broken beyond repair. A shell of the man that I was supposed to be._

_Normally, I would be starting work this week. I was supposed to come in at seven AM on Monday so that they could explain me how everything worked at the office and got me assigned my first real case as a lawyer. Now, I am not sure if I can make it until this date. Not because there is something that is stopping me from living until that day physically, but mentally. Dean, you have to know how much of a mess I am._

_Earlier, while you were sleeping, I sat in the bathroom and smoked a cigarette. My bottle of whiskey was right there, next to me. You have no idea how tempted I was to drink it all in one go._

_Can I be honest with you about something? I hope that you aren’t mad about it, and that you understand. I don’t know how long I will be able to keep my head above the water. For such a long time, I have told myself that it is okay, that I am on top of things once again. The past few days, before Claire died, I think that I actually was for a change. But the past two days? The water is by my lips. If I get to brave, it will start filling me and stop me from breathing._

_How do people do this? Do you have any idea? How do people just go on with their lives after a person that they loved has passed on. It almost feels as if I betraying her, as if I am getting off easy because I don’t think about her for a split second._

_And then, when the memories flood in, I want to drown out the world around me and just die already. It scares the hell out of me, that I am feeling so low._

_I don’t even know why I am writing you today. Why I feel like I owe you an explanation, just in case I am brave enough. Just in case I am brave enough to actually end this shit._

_Castiel_

 

He folded the letter and tucked it safely away in the drawer. There was no need for Dean to find it now. It would only worry him and well, Cas wasn’t ready for him to read it even if it was a letter for him. He didn’t even know why he had decided to write it to Dean.

Cas didn’t know if he would ever be able to tell Dean how low he really was, how much the sadness kept him on a leash, how much he had to fight to do the things that seemed to be normal for everybody else.

He lighted another cigarette, his third or fourth of the day, opening the bathroom window again. His cell balanced on Cas’s knee. Somehow, he was waiting for it to ring, for his parents to call that she had come back after all, that she was okay, considering. He knew that it was futile hope, that it would never happen, but he needed the thought to pull through a little bit.

Instead, he dialled Claire’s cell. He knew that she wouldn’t pick up, but he needed to hear her voice the way that it was, that it had been.

“Hello!” he heard her say, voice happy and cheerful, “if you get this message, I guess that I am not around to answer my _\- shut up Cas! I’m recording my message_ \- cell phone, that was my brother. Leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you, or you just call back later? ‘’kay? Bye now!” He smiled at the memory. He should have pressed the disconnect button when he heard the beep that signalled that he was allowed to speak, but he couldn’t do it.

“Missing you is a tidal wave and today I am drowning,” he said to the phone, before hanging up.


	14. In the face of grief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A trigger warning towards the end; feeling worthless, thoughts of suicide.

Dean woke up around nine AM. Cas could hear him scurry around in the house from the bathroom. The past couple of hours, he had just sat there, looking out in the rain and smoking, taking an occupational sip from his bottle to keep his thoughts in check.

         If he really thought about things or if he was just returning to his numb state from weeks ago, he didn’t know. Last few weeks, mentally speaking, he had been at a high point, he had been happier than he had been in a long time, but after every high, there was a low. Often, he didn’t even realize that he was having a good period, not until he hit a rough patch again, not until he felt like jumping out that window again.

         Cas was unsure when the depression or whatever it was started. Sometimes, he thought it was around the time that his mother passed on, even though he wasn’t sure of it. All he knew that over the past couple of years, he had felt in different stages of _I am doing okay_ and _I just want to drown myself in the bathtub._ The only in between that he had was _I want to go to sleep and don’t wake up, because I don’t want to face the day_. The past couple of weeks, it had mainly been him not wanting to wake up but he could almost feel himself slipping back into the pitch black darkness. Today was the first time in a long time though that he thought to himself that it may be better if he just hadn’t been here in the first place.

         Because, let’s face it, if Cas hadn’t been born, there was no way that his mother would have to make the deal. That way, Claire wouldn’t have to make the deal either and everybody would still be alive.

         If it hadn’t been for Dean, he wasn’t even sure if he would still be here, if he would be still walking around and talking. The whole situation had put so much strain on his feelings that he had felt more than once like giving up. A lot more than once really.

         “Cas?” he heard Dean ask from behind the bathroom door. “Are you okay?”

         “I’m fine,” he lied, trying to bring some smiles in his voice. “I just needed to smoke.” There were still tears in his eyes, still tears that clung to his cheeks.

         “Can I come in then?”

         “Sure.” Hesitantly, Cas unlocked the door, the bottle of whiskey hidden behind a curtain. His ashtray lay balanced on the window sill, but Dean wouldn’t think that that was weird. He had said that he needed to smoke after all.

         Dean sat down on the edge of the bathtub, clearly uncomfortable with what he was going to say. He looked up at Cas with an expression in his eyes that he couldn’t place.

         “I am going to stay here for a while,” he announced, “if you are okay with that.” Cas’s blood froze in his veins. “Sammy - Sam is going to leave for college in a few weeks anyway, so I’ll be alone anyway. I can’t leave you alone when you are like this Cas.” His eyes took Cas in,

         “I’m fine, Dean,” Cas said defensively, putting out his cigarette.

         “Really? Is that so?” Cas’s eyebrows shot up as Dean walked over to the window, pulling away the curtain. “Because glass has reflexions you know.” Dean shook his head. “You barely slept. Each time that I woke up, you were awake, just staring around."

         “What do you want me to tell you?” Cas felt tired, so goddamn tired. “Which version of the truth do you want?”

         “Why don’t we start with the truth? The real one.”

         “I’m not doing so good,” he admitted when Cas realized that Dean wouldn’t stop staring at him, “but what do you expect Dean? I just saw my sister get ripped to shreds. I’ll be fine, I just need time.” He wished that Dean would look at something else, so that he didn’t have to pretend to be braver than he was. So that he didn't have to pretend that he was whole in order to fall apart again. "How would you feel if you saw that happen to Sam?"

         Cas fled the bathroom when his cell phone rang. He knew that bringing up the same thing happening to Sam was a sensitive subject for Dean, he knew that one had been below the belt.

         He didn't pick up the phone though, not when his mother's name showed up on the display. He could tell her that he hadn't been awake yet, if he was lucky. She would want to talk about things that he wasn’t ready to talk about, things like her funeral.

         If they wanted him to say something, he would refuse. He was already sure of that. Cas was not the kind to talk in big things, he was more on the shy side. He wanted to be able to pretend that he was okay, especially with other people around. When he was alone, he knew that the façade slipped off as if it had never been there. He was vulnerable without his façade, knew that if anybody wanted to hurt him, they could easily do that when his guard was down, that was why there was no way that he would be speaking at his sister’s funeral.

         His mother didn’t leave a voice mail message, which was fine with him, but did mean that he had to call her back at some point during the day, even though he didn’t feel up for it.

 

Dean was waiting for him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. There was coffee brewing and eggs on the stove. It all seemed awfully domestic to Cas.

         “If you want to start vacuuming,” Cas laughed, “I don’t have one.” It was a bitter laugh, but it was a laugh. He saw Dean crack a smile.

         “That’s your job,” he said, “just like taking out the trash. Now, eat.” He slid the eggs on a plate and put them on the kitchen table. “I can’t always have you be drunk or drinking on an empty stomach.”

         “Dean, sorry about what I said about Sammy, I shouldn’t have.”

         “It’s fine,” Dean said, “don’t worry about it. I get it, you’re going through a rough time, but you got to let me help you, okay? I can handle _I’m okay’s_ until I really start to notice that you are not dealing with it at all. If that happens, I’m taking you straight to a doc, deal?”

         “Deal.”

 

They ate together in silence for the duration of the meal. His coffee helped Cas sober up completely. He knew that there still was a funny edge to his sadness that was caused by it, but that was all, no more wobbly walking, no more nothing. Nothing but being tired.

         Dean was being such a good sport about all of it, Cas didn’t deserve that, not at all. He wished that he could say that he didn’t want Dean to be there, but he did. He did want Dean to stay in his little apartment and  spend time with him, not because he was a broken piece of glass, but because of who Cas was.

         “I was wondering something,” Dean said, looking up at Cas. “This is going to sound incredibly awkward. Just, curious.” He saw Dean bit his lip. “Are you with somebody right now? Like, boyfriend?” There was a blush on Dean’s  cheeks. When Cas raised his eyebrows, he quickly looked at the wall. “I mean, because you now, there has never been anybody here and well. It would get awkward if your boyfriend would walk in and see this random dude in his boyfriends apartment.”

         Cas had to supress a laugh before answering. “No, Dean. No boyfriend, not since you know, Noah.” He didn’t think that Dean’s eyes could get bigger. “Well, I guess after too, Balthazar, but he wasn’t really serious with me, you know? We’d hang out, and we would kiss, but we never talked so I broke it off.” There was a sad smile on Cas’s lips, thinking back to him. “So yeah, no serious relationship in a while.” It felt awkward talking to boyfriends to Dean.

         “That’s like, five years? Are you serious?”

         “Yeah,” he admitted. “I don’t know, I’ve just been so busy with everything that boyfriends kind of got pushed to the side. What about you? Don’t you have a girlfriend or boyfriend to be with?” Cas knew that Dean was for teaming both sides to speak, he knew that he had loved both men and women in the past. He didn’t even remember when Dean had told him, but he knew that it had stuck in his mind. “Because, that would too be awkward.”

         “No,” he said, “not right now. I’ve had a girlfriend for a while Lisa, she just left for college so we decided to split ways. Before her, I’ve been kind of going back and forth you know. Been with both men and women. But right now, I’m blissfully single.”

         “Okay,” he said, shrugging. “So guess I’m not the only single freak at age twenty-two.” That was when his phone started to ring again. Cas answered this time though, because even if it was his mother, she wouldn’t stop calling until she got to talk to him. He knew her too damn well.

         “Castiel, darling,” he heard an all too familiar voice say, “I heard about your sister. I’m sorry for you loss.”

         “Hi Balthazar,” he said, almost surprised. “Yeah, thanks I guess.” He saw Dean’s eyebrow perch up at the name Balthazar.

         “How are you holding up?” Why did everybody want to freaking know whether he was holding up? What did they think, that he’d be perfect? That he’d be happy? She had only been dead for a fucking day.

         “I’m doing okay,” Cas said, internally cursing him for his awesome timing, “I still can’t really believe it, but I’m starting to get there you know. I’m starting to accept it.” He knew that Balthazar knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t okay, not by a long shot. “How did you even know? I thought that you didn’t know Claire.”

         “Really Cassie boy? You’re okay? Where have we heard that before? Your mother called me, believe it or not,” he said. “She thinks that I may have a good influence on you. She hadn’t met me yet, has she?”

         “Oh great,” Cas muttered. “How did she even get your number? Never mind, I don’t want to know. Yes, I am okay. Believe it or not.” Cas was kind of getting annoyed with the whole ordeal. “Look man, I’m sorry my mother called you, I’ll tell her to back off. I got to go now, I’ve got company over and I don’t want to -.”

         “Are you telling me to hang up the phone so you can _‘talk’_ to your boyfriend?” Cas could hear the smirk in Balthazar’s voice. “Real smooth, Novak. Too bad I know your tones. Do I know him?”

         “Balthazar, I’m going to end this phone call right here.”

         “Oh, so I do. Let me see. Your mother said. Oh, is it _him_. The Winchester boy?” Cas could only stare at Dean in amazement as Balthazar started to laugh. “From your silence, I think I’m right.” He could hear a smirk from the background. “You know that I’ve had my cards on the two of you being together gain for quite the while.”

         “Balthazar! You are wrong, he’s not – and what the hell with that _again?_ We have never been together, jackass.”

         “Sure thing boy, sure.” He wanted to protest more, but he had already hung up the phone.

         “Great. Just fucking great.”

         “What?” Dean’s face was somewhere in between worry and confusion.

         “Balthazar just called. I think he’s in town, he thinks we are a couple. My mom put him up with checking up on me to see how I am doing, I think.” Dean’s expression froze on his face. “He said that he had gotten my number from my mom.”

         “What do you plan on doing if he suddenly barges in through the door?”

         “No idea. I’ll see. I know that I do not put it past him to just bang down the door.” Cas groaned. "But I gotta call mom first and tell her to give nobody my number unless she wants to be murdered by her own kid.

 

Cas was glad that Balthazar stayed away all day. Dean left the house only once or twice, to go pick up his stuff at the motel and a second time to drag Sam with him. Cas had insisted on Sam staying at his place even if it was only the two or three weeks that he still had left before heading out to college.

         Sam could sleep in his room, he’d he could pull out a spare mattress for Dean and Cas would sleep in the sofa for a week or something. He’d probably fall asleep watching television anyway, so sleeping there wouldn’t be that much of a stretch. Dean wouldn’t hear that though, said he’d take the couch. Sam just stared as the two argued about it, looking from one to the other like he was watching a tennis match.

         Eventually they agreed that they would settle the matter later. They didn’t really have anything to do, but arguing was tiring. His mother called him again, to tell him that the funeral would be in two days and that he should be there. That he had to appear sober and well dressed. That, in case he was drunk, she would kick him out. Oh, and while he was at it, he should probably try to write something for her, to read.

         “I guess we had that,” Cas sighed, before falling on his couch, exhausted, “and my mother has the worst image of me as she can probably get.”

         “What did she say?” came the voice of Dean from the bathroom. He appeared in the doorway, brushing his teeth, some toothpaste clinging on his mouth corners.

         “Not to be drunk,” he shrugged, “to be dressed properly.” He rolled his eyes. “She thinks that I do not have the decency to show up properly for my own sister’s funeral. If I am even the slightest bit drunk, she’ll throw me out. You know, that would be parent number two to do that.” When Sam looked at him with wonder in his eyes, he explained. “My father kicked me out of our Christmas party because I was drunk. They didn’t want the family to think that I was the drunken kid in the family.” He sighed at the memory. “I was so pissed at everybody I threw stones through the living room window.” There was a tiny smile on his lips, thinking back at the memory. "If you want to know one thing, replacing glass is fucking expensive."

         “That’s harsh.” He saw that Dean was listening along intently from the bathroom.

         “It’s my mom,” he shrugged, “I’m used to it. My whole family really, I have always been the black sheep in the family and that only got worse as the years progressed. Like I said, I’m used to it all.”

         “I’ll make sure that your mother doesn’t kick you out of your own god damn sister’s funeral,” Dean promised, stepping out of the bathroom half dressed. For the first time, Cas could see the anti-possession tattoo clearly, without it showing up around the corners of Dean’s V-neck, even though he didn’t even wear those that often. It was a gorgeous tattoo in its own. With the knowledge of what is out there, it had meaning and if you didn’t know, it was something too.

         Before Dean could notice Cas staring at him, he turned away. Cas noticed that Sam grinned at him, looking as if knew _something_ that the two of them didn’t know.

 

That night, Cas stayed up late to watch television while both Dean and Sam were fast asleep in the other room. He liked to hear the sound of the two of them snoring, it made him feel that he wasn’t alone, not this time.  He had a tough job cut out for him. He only had one more day to write her a speech and he didn’t know if he’d even be able to do it.

         ~~Claire was my sister, but sometimes I feel like she was more than that.~~

         ~~I loved Claire.~~

         He didn’t seem to be able to get a sentence on the paper. Everything seemed and felt wrong, terribly wrong. Why did his mother think that he’d be able to speak at the funeral? She knew how he didn’t even manage to say things in public, how did she think that he’d be able to speak on the funeral?

         Hours ticked by. Each one too slow, too damn slow. Two AM came by, then three. By four, he felt his eyelids droop. He could barely stay awake, he could barely keep his eyes open. But sleep brought nightmares and with Sam around, he didn’t know if he wanted them around. He didn’t want the nightmares to scare Sam, he didn’t want to wake up screaming or crying with Sam around. He cared for the boy the same way that he had cared for Claire. As if he was a brother to him.

         Cas plugged in his mp3 player, putting the earbuds in his ears and volume turned up higher than was probably recommended. He blasted _Wanted dead or alive_  loudly, hoping that he wouldn’t wake up Sam or Dean with the volume. He didn’t even remember when he had downloaded the song or when he had started liking that kind of music. Before, it had always been The Beatles, that kind of music. Now, his music was way more rock related, more well, Deanish. He had noticed that he was listening more to the songs that had blasted through the speakers of the Impala, back when the sky seemed to be blue and everything okay.

_Sometimes I sleep, sometimes it's not for days_

_And the people I meet always go their separate ways_

_Sometimes you tell the day_

_By the bottle that you drink_

_And times when you're alone all you do is think_

         He found comfort in the lyrics. Cas recognized himself in the words that were sung. But most of all, it kept him awake. The volume kept him up. Soon enough, he could only hope that he’d have one night of decent sleep before his body started to say that it had done enough, that it needed sleep and if he didn’t want to give it sleep, that it would be forced to take action.

         “Cas?” he heard a sleepy voice say from the bedroom door. “You still up?” Dean stood in the door, hair dishevelled, shirt slightly crept up, revealing the band of his boxers. “I thought you said that you’d come to be too?” Dean had pulled the blankets of the mattress, wrapped them around him against the cold. Dean almost looked like one of those action movie hero’s, if only he’d been dressed in a tight suit.

         They had made last minute arrangements to put up a camping bed that Cas had around for whoever was the one that crawled into bed the last. Sam had been the lucky one. He had crawled into bed around ten PM and gotten the biggest bed with the best mattress. Dean had decided to call it a night around midnight, after forcing Cas to promise that he’d come to bed too.

         “Yeah, I know,” Cas mumbled, taking his cup of night time tea from the coffee table, “I’m just working on something. I’ll be right there.” He knew that he was making fake promises and well, he knew that Dean knew that he wouldn't get to bed anyway.

         “I’m up now anyway,” Dean said, falling into the seat next to him. “Can I help?”

         “I’m writing her eulogy,” Cas said, “you know, like mom asked? I just can’t get past the first sentence.”

         “You do know that writing eulogies at 4:30 AM at night is no good right.” Dean nudged Cas’s shoulder. “If you don’t want to speak, you just tell your mom to screw it and tell something herself, whether she’d like it if you did that or not.”

         “I want to for Claire.” Cas shook his head, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “I’m just not thinking straight right now.”

         “Then go to bed,” Dean said.

         “I don’t want to,” Cas said, for what seemed like the thousandth time. “I really don’t want to go to sleep and have a nightmare.” He heard Dean sigh, before pulling the earbuds out of Cas ears, turning off his mp3 and pulling him up on his feet.

         “Bed. Now. I’ll keep you safe.”

 

Even though Cas had intended to sleep on his crappy camping bed, Dean pulled or pushed him, whatever you want to call it, onto his mattress. Dean carefully pulled the blankets over him before laying down with his back to Cas’s back. Dean was back asleep within seconds.

         Cas lay awake for at least a half an hour, staring up at his back at the ceiling. He didn’t know when it happened, but he noticed that Dean scooted closer in his sleep, only to eventually put his head on Cas’s chest. His hair tickled at his skin, but Cas didn’t mind.  He actually enjoyed being used as a pillow, for as long as he could.

         He knew that at some point in the night, he would realize what he had done and roll back onto his own pillow. Cas was asleep before that happened though, and he wasn’t having good dreams either.

 

He saw Claire again, thorn up, bloody. Her eyes were hollow, each step she took, her footsteps left bloody footprints on the floor. They were there again, in that room. The room where she had died.

         “You left me here, Cassie _._ ” She looked said, tears in her eyes. “You just _let me die_. How could you do that? You are my own brother. I thought that you’d be able to save me. I thought that just maybe, you hung the moon you know. That you’d be able to make it all better. Even that freaking blackbird song.”

         “Claire –“

         “Stop right there. No Claire Bear. I am not freaking ten years old Cas. See, you killed me, didn’t you? You just sat there as the hell hound attacked me, as he tore into my flesh over and over again. How could you just watch that? Why didn’t you at least try to defend me? Oh, right. Because you are a coward, that is what you are. Too scared to do anything.”

         “No.” The vision played before his eyes again, her last breaths. Seeing her get torn to shreds, all of it. As if it was on a loop.

         “You can’t save me, you couldn’t save me.”

 

He woke up barely being able to breathe and with tears in his eyes. Dean was still vast asleep on his chest, disturbed by the movement of his _pillow_. Cas saw him turn around, throwing his arms around him and then continuing to sleep as if nothing happened. It sort of helped soothe Cas, but it wasn’t enough. There still wasn’t any breath going to his lungs, too many tears in his eyes.

         “Cas? Hey Cas, calm down.” The thing that he actually needed was his oxygen. It would help him get past it all a little bit, but I was in the boxes. “Cas. Cas! God damn.” The weight shifted from his chest.

         “I can’t breathe,” he whimpered, clutching at his chest. “I don’t.” He had to cut his words off. “Air.”

         “Oh shit. Sam! Paper bag or just a bag, _now_. Calm down Cas, calm down, it’s okay, you are safe.” A few seconds later, a bag was pressed to his mouth and he pulled up into a sitting position. He leaned into whoever it was, his lungs almost feeling like they would burst. They burned painfully, the way that they had been burning for weeks now. For weeks, he'd barely gotten his breath, now was just the final straw.

         Slowly, his breaths were getting controlled and the bag unnecessary. It was a while before Dean pulled it back from his mouth though. Sam lingered in the doorway, looking worried but proud at the same time. There was the tiniest of smiles on his lips before he quietly left the room again, shaking his head.

         “Hey, you okay?”

         “I am now,” he said, voice sounding hoarse, tired. “Thanks, Dean.” His lungs still weren’t happy, they burned as if he had put a lighter to them.

         “This isn’t the first time this has happened, is it?” Dean sounded almost sad, Cas thought as he admitted the truth to Dean. And he was right, this hadn’t been the first time that it happened, not by a long shot. In college had been through stuff like this too many times to remember. He had been lucky back then that he’d had Balthazar, Balthazar always knew what to do, how to calm him down, how to put the nasal cannula in his nose and turn it on. Heck, he had even known his settings from the top of his head. He had known that a bad day meant 2 liters oxygen and a good day just one liter.

         “Not really. I am supposed to be on extra oxygen,” he admitted. “I have been on that for five years now, my lungs are overworked, getting smaller and pretty much suck at being lungs. The hyperventilating, it is because I can barely catch my breath.” _And because I am panicking_.

         “You don’t have any stuff for it in your house though?”

         “In boxes, like I said, I haven’t actually used that stuff in ages. Since college probably. I should use it, my doctor has been giving me a hard time about it, because when I went in a few weeks ago for a cold, he said that he could hear that I was having a hard time again. That my lungs were getting worse.”

         “Which box?” Dean didn’t sound angry or upset, which Cas could have handled, he sounded tired. “I’ll find and unpack them. You stay down and try to rest a little bit.”

 

Fifteen minutes later, his old trusty oxygen concentrator was back on his nose and the extra oxygen was the best relieve that he had had in ages. He had forgotten how annoying it was to carry around a concentrator around the house, even if it had wheels to roll it around. All three batteries of the portable concentrator were charging and Dean was trying to do his best to read the manual and figure out how the thing worked, what should happen in case it would malfunction. Dean had told Sam, who had simply nodded.

         Cas sat down in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, trying to work around the cannula once again. It would take some time getting used to all of this again. Back in the day, he had been in the hospital for two weeks and event hen he still remembered that it had taken him some time at home to get used to it. His settings were up high, somewhere around the level that he had been five years ago. Once upon a time, before he started smoking, a settling of a half a liter was almost enough. He had been so close to never being forced to wear the thing ever again, but then of course, he had gone ahead and gotten his lungs bad again. He had started smoking. Damn, he could have put the lighter to his lungs and gotten the same result.

         Once again, there was paper and a pen in front of him, but he didn’t know what to write. Claire’s funeral was the next day, he had no way that he’d still fit into his suit and well, he  had no idea what he would be saying. Dean had told him to see what felt good, what felt natural, but he didn’t even know what that was. He gave up three or four versions later. Each of them had ended in the bin, all nothing that he would ever say. No matter how hard he tried, he never seemed to be able to catch what he had felt for her, how he had loved his sister, how important she had been for him.

         “So, everything is charged, I think,” Dean said. “The lights were green, so I guess that they are charged. We’ll see. I put them with your portable concentrator, so if you want to go out and are having a hard time, it’s right there.” He seemed to hesitate for a little while. “Do you know what you want to wear tomorrow? The funeral is tomorrow, so if you still have to go buy something.”

         “I’ll have to see if my suit still fits,” Cas said, “but I think I have a good idea of what I want to wear tomorrow.” Only the thought about the day getting closer made him feel nauseous. He didn’t want to say goodbye to her, not like this. He didn’t want to see her coffin buried beneath the ground where he could never see her again.

         “Why don’t you do that first?”

         “Yeah. Sure.”

 

He could hear the two of them talking in the kitchen while he was trying to pull up the pants of the suit. Cas kept putting it on wrong, first he had worn it inside out, then the back had been in the front and now, well, he had somehow managed to put both feet through one leg. He had to grip the edge of the bathtub not to fall to the floor, before putting the correct feet in the correct leg.

         The suit had been tight on him before he had bought it, but now, it fit him pretty well, or at least, the pants. The shirt was too loose on him, too baggy. He knew that he probably had another pair lying around, but where. That was the big question. He could go out and buy a new shirt, but that would be a waste of money. He needed to get his hair cut too, he needed so many things.

         They didn’t notice it when Cas walked to his bedroom with a bare chest, or at least, Cas was blind enough to believe that. Dean followed the other boy with his eyes, until the door shut behind him.

         “He’s getting skinny,” he muttered, placing his hands around his cup of coffee.

         “Seriously, Dean are you only now noticing that?” Sam sighed, watching the ordeal. “He’s been this skinny from the moment that we set foot in his apartment.”

         “I noticed,” Dean admitted, “but you know, I thought he was a little bit chubbier, not a walking skeleton.”

         “Guess that is what losing people does to you.”

         “Not just losing people,” Dean sighed. “I think he’s seriously messed up inside. Who would smoke if he knew that his lungs were already going through that rough a time? I think he’s having more trouble than we are seeing.”

         “That is why you want to stay here, don’t you?” Sam looked at him, almost as if seeing how Dean reacted. “To help him?”

         “I messed him up, Sam, I should be the one to fix him.”

 

Cas ignored their talking, or at least tried to as he buttoned up the white shirt. It fit him loosely, but snug enough that his mother wouldn’t notice it. He looked like a monkey in a suit, he thought as he tied his tie, before sliding the black jacket on over it. It still fit, it was okay, maybe a little loose, but he looked okay.

         He changed into a pair or worn jeans and a shirt, before sitting down on the edge of the bathtub.  He untangled himself from the oxygen, his lungs starting to burn not a minute after. He didn’t mind though, not right now.

         Tears stung in his eyes, but he couldn’t let them be free, he had to do certain things first. He cleaned off the window sill, before sitting down on the ledge, feet dangling in the air below him. It was four floors, if he landed, he would be injured quite bad. If he hurt enough, they wouldn’t be able to do anything for him, he would force them to let him die, to allow him to pass.

         He just stared at first, stared at the cars driving past, at the people going on with their lives, not even glancing at that person on the roof, that person that was about to jump if he could. He let the tears go, let all of his sadness flow out in the cold air. The cigarette smoke drifted on the wind.

         “You know Claire,” he whispered to himself, “I’m not even sure why I don’t just, you know, jump. It’s silly. Why would I ever hang on to my life when you are gone? You are the only one that I have left to care. The boys back there, they would never care, never. They would be shaken up about it, but they wouldn’t care.” He felt how he turned his body closer and closer to the edge, how he slid closer and closer to his death. "Hell, I wouldn't even care."

         He could almost taste it by the time that he felt strong hands wrap around his body, by the time that he was pulled inside by a white faced Sam.

         “Cas! God damn,” he cussed.

         “I slipped,” Cas said, making up a pathetic excuse. “Please don’t tell Dean. I swear, if you tell Dean about this I –“ To his surprise, Sam just nodded, before pulling Cas in a tight hug.

         “Just not like that, okay?”

         “Okay.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thanks for reading the chapter.  
> I thought that I'd give y'all a heads up and tell you that I am currently also posting this story to livejournal (youaregonecas.livejournal.com) and that there is a trailer up on youtube (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3MiRLj3mXvk&list=UUUD-1OmBBqg574-gY4DkkiQ).


	15. I just want to be by your side if these wings could fly

The morning of the funeral, Cas woke up at six AM. That night, he hadn’t needed the oxygen as much as he usually did, not really, he had slept peacefully, his lungs able to relax. As soon as he woke up though, he reached for the cannula, pressing it firmly into his nose. His lungs were burning from the loss of air for so long. He should probably be less stubborn about wearing the cannula at night, but he knew that once he started doing that, it meant that things were getting real bad again. He didn’t want to give in, there was no way that he was weak enough for the night too, but well, he didn’t have that much of a choice. It was either give in or almost suffocate waking up.

Cas had been lucky that Dean was still asleep, or Dean would have been angry with him, so angry. Ever since finding out how loosely Castiel was with his health, he had started to check up on him. Every once in a while, even when he was asleep, he would come in to check if the ribbons of the cannula were in place. He even checked if he ate. He wasn’t sure how glad he should be with that and if he even had to be happy with that. It felt nice though, to know that somebody finally cared. It may not be his family, but it was someone.

It was different, knowing that there is somebody in this world that actually cares whether you are doing okay or not, somebody that knows you are struggling and wants to help you. Never had he felt like there was somebody that cared enough to stick around. Not even his own family had made him feel like they cared. How weird that while family failed, Sam and Dean could make him feel like family.

The incident of a few days ago hung in the air whenever Sam and Castiel talked, but both of them shut up about it. Sam knew that Castiel felt uncomfortable talking about it with Dean as close to them. He didn't want to let Dean know because, well, Dean would be worried. He'd be bloody worried. Castiel couldn't handle that, not right now.

He had slept in the spare camping bed and had only gone to bed hours after the others. His mind had been too clouded to fall asleep straight away anyway. So in the end, he had slept maybe three or four hours tops. There was still an edge of sleep clinging to him, but he wasn't too tired. He'd stay awake.

Cas slipped out of bed and tiptoed out of the room, for as well as that could carrying an oxygen concentrator with him or well, pulling it with. He could hear that Sam was still snoring, but Dean was tossing around on his mattress, muttering something that Cas couldn’t understand.

 

He slipped into the bathroom, splashing water in his face. It was cold during the morning, wearing only boxers and a shirt. Cas was practically freezing, but he didn’t mind that. It helped keep him awake, especially after last night. He hadn’t had a nightmare. For the first time in weeks, he didn’t have a nightmare about Claire dying, somebody else dying. He just slept and waited until morning.

The biggest problem of it all was the first thought that he had when he woke up. He had thought that he couldn’t handle it, not anymore. He was an empty shell, he was everything short of the man that he used to be, the person that he was before all of this shit happened.

“Come on,” he whispered to his reflection in the mirror. “You’re going to get through this day, even if you do it for Dean.”

 

An hour later, he no longer was the only one awake. He’d been watching television for almost an hour, a cup of coffee in front of him when Sam crawled out of bed. It was weird seeing Sam up when he was just awake. The past couple of days when Sam had stayed over, he had always been the one that woke up last. Now he was the first one to wake up, it was weird.

“Mornin’,” Sam mumbled, heading straight for the coffee. For at least ten minutes, the two of them just sat there in silence listening to the morning news on the radio. It was such an average day, people got killed, people robbed, some people won something, it was always the same or at least about the same. It wasn’t an average day for him though, and that was what bothered him.

He and Sam had a loose conversation going about college, what Sam wanted to go study – law – and where he was going to go. It appeared that he would be following in Cas’s footsteps. He was going to attend the same college that Cas had gone to and probably had quite the same teachers.

“Have you bought your books yet?” Cas asked him, curious. “First year’s books can be a little difficult. I know that I had to look all over before I got my hands on them.”

“I’ve been seeing if I can find them for cheap,” he admitted. “I got a full scholarship, but we’re a little tight on money right now.” Sam seemed to be almost afraid to admit it. “So I can’t afford to buy them brand new.”

“Hold on,” Cas said, walking over to the bookshelves across the room. In a big brown box that he hadn’t wanted to unpack were his old books. “I’ve made annotations in there and some of it is highlighted, but I mainly took notes on my computer, so there shouldn’t be too much stuff in here.”

“Really?” Sam’s face lit up. Cas liked seeing a smile on his face. The past few days had been too stressful, too sad. Seeing a smile gave him just that little bit of hope.

“Yeah, sure. Take them with when you head out to college, I don’t need them anymore.”

“Are you okay Cas?” Sam asked him, staring at him above his cup of coffee. “You know, after. Now that.”

“Yeah,” Castiel said, eager to steer away from the subject, “I'm fine. You won't find me like that anymore, I promise.”

“You better,” Sam grumbled. “You know that we can find you help if you need it right? If you're feeling sui-”

“Don't Sam,” he sighed, exhausted. “I don't need help, it won't require help. And if I'd need help, I would tell you and Dean.” Sam looked at him with doubt in his eyes. It was clear that he wanted to say something, but luckily for Castiel, he was disrupted by the beeping of an alarm clock in the other room and the unevidable crash that followed it.

“I'll go see if my alarm clock is still alive,” he muttered, thankful for the opportunity to leave the room.

Cas had just set his coffee cup down on the table when they heard beeping from the other room and a thud. “I’ll go see if my alarm clock is still alive.”

“Want me to check up on Dean?” Sam’s eyes lingered on the oxygen concentrator. Even though he stayed silent, Cas knew what he was thinking, why he had wanted to go.

“No, I’ll go,” Cas said, shrugging. “It’s fine. It’s not that hard to drag the thing with me.”

 

He heard Sam laugh in the background as he opened the door to the bedroom cautiously. The room was threaded with darkness, sunlight barely filtering through the curtains. All he could see of Dean was his shadow, sort of sitting up in the bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“How come I’m the last one to get up and it’s eight?” Dean croacked sleepily, before falling back onto the bed. “How late did you go to bed yesterday? I didn’t hear you.” Cas was glad for the darkness, glad that Dean couldn't see the look on his face. He was a terrible liar.

“You were already asleep,” Castiel muttered. “I tried to be silent not to wake you up. But around eleven o'clock.”

"Oh,” he muttered, before looking at him with a confused look in his eyes. “But I woke up at one and you weren't there?" Dean said, "Anyway, I wouldn't have minded, you know that. How long have youu been up anyway? Not before Sam?" Had Dean been checking up on him again?

"I have been awake for a few hours," he said, “got up around six. Just couldn’t sleep anymore. Sam is weird when he’s just woken up, I’ll give him that.”

"It’s Sammy,” Dean said shrugging, before falling back into his pillows. “ He's always weird. I’ll just go back to sleep for a little while.” He yawned. “I’ll see you in a few years.”

“Get up Dean,” Cas said, shaking his head to hide a smile. “Or I will get ice cubes.”

“I’ll get up,” Dean groaned, before rolling from his mattress, hitting the ground face first. “I’m okay, I’m okay.”

 

Cas disappeared into the bathroom after getting Dean up. Dean was safely settled in the kitchen with a cup of coffee in his hands and a plate of food in front of him. For a change, Cas had insisted on backing him something, just to return the favour. He knew that it wouldn’t be the best thing that he’d had, but it should taste somewhat okay.

He felt unsure as he dried his hair after the bath and slipped into his pants. Claire would have laughed at him for being nervous for a funeral, hell, she would have laughed at him for wearing a god damn suit. He just hoped that he'd be able to keep himself together in there.

Today, he missed her more than anything. He missed how they’d be able to laugh about things like this later, if only she’d been alive. Shaking the thoughts away, he buttoned his button up, only to be forced to do it all again because he had somehow managed to miss a button. He was only half buttoned up when Dean knocked on the door.

“Hey, Cas? Can I come in for a sec?” Dean opened the door after Cas yelled that it was okay. In the house itself, there was no sign or Sam. “Sam just ran out to grab ourselves something to warm up after. I just wanted to see if you were okay?” He looked at Cas with an eyebrow raised as he fumbled with the buttons on his shirt.

“Sort of,” he sighed, “I don’t know. I guess we’ll see.”

“Well, we’ll both be there,” Dean said, taking over the buttoning up of the last buttons before Cas managed to somehow get his fingers stuck in his shirt. “So if you need to step outside for a second, me or Sammy will go with, ‘kay? Where’s your tie?”

“Dean, I am perfectly able to -” But Dean was already working his tie.

“That is what pretending to be FBI gets you,” he said with a smirk on his lips, “you learn how to do these things.”

“You know that I cannot not hear that right? That you just confessed to a lawyer that you pretend to be FBI.” Cas wished that he could say that he was surprised about it, but with the Winchesters, there were few things that still managed to get to him. “I don’t get how come you aren’t in prison already.”

“Well we have a lawyer on our team now, don’t we.”

“Are you saying that I am your partner in crime now?” he asked, eyebrows raised. A smile rested on Cas’s lips, teasing almost. “Because I don’t know if they’ll ever believe that the FBI hires somebody with major breathing problems.”

“We’ll see about that.”

 

By the time Sam got back home, Dean was almost ready too. Cas was still trying to get his hair to do something not crazy in the bathroom, while Dean buttoned up the last of his buttons. He needed a haircut before he went to work, he decided. If he still looked like this disheveled mess, there was no way that he would attract many people or convince them to let him work their case.

Dean was fiddling with his tie when Cas reached out and turned Dean around.

“Let me repay you the favor.” Cas was slower at creating a knot in his tie, but it he was kind of proud of himself. It was almost perfectly formed. “Next time, we should be less the same.” They both were wearing black suits with a white button up and a black tie.

“Yeah, I guess,” Dean said absentmindedly, before heading out of the bathroom. Cas followed tow, helping Sam with putting away the last of the groceries. He felt awkwardly overdressed next to Sam, who was wearing a pair of black jeans and a black button up shirt. All three of them were dressed quite similar, but then again, what else could you wear to a funeral? There were only few possibilities.

The wait for the funeral to start was the worst of it all. He sat through it all with tears in his eyes, his breathing laboured even though he had his oxygen set up. The reason he could barely breathe was because of the sadness, the tears. The grief cut through everything.

The preacher was old, rusty. Cas was even surprised that he was still around. He had been the preacher in each service that he had ever been too, and they hadn’t been frequent. While his mother had been more of a religious nut, he wasn’t. He just didn’t believe that there was something else out there. And even if there was, God was the biggest fuck up. With all that he'd been through, there was no way that he could possibly had anything good to do for people.

“We are gathered here today to give thanks for the life of Claire Novak, whose short stay of barely seventeen years was a blessing to us all, but cut off too short and too abruptly,” the preacher started. “Death, it is necessary. Death is required and death is sad. It tears at our heart when it happens, but without it, there could be nothing new. No new genes, no species, no new perspectives in the world. Without death, there could be no more birth. Death is the price we pay.

“Even though it is the price, we struggle against it with all our might. We guard ourselves and live in resistance to this natural state. When it does come, such as now, there is for some a question of faith, of the fairness of the world, which eventually gives way to acceptance that death is part of the greater plan for the universe. This acceptance doesn’t usually come easy or quickly, but when it does, it can strengthen us. To love life and to trust so completely in the ways of the universe and of God, even in its final act, is fortifying.

“We have come here today to celebrate the passage that Claire has made into the greater wholeness, the loving arms of God. We are here to honour her memory and help us remember of all good things, everything positive about her life.”

When it was eventually time for him to go up front, he didn’t know what to say, not at first. He stood there for a few seconds in silence, until he saw Dean look up at him, sadness in his eyes, but courage too. _You can do it._

“Just in case that you are not aware of this, I am Castiel Novak, Claire’s older brother, no I used to be. Now that she is gone, I just don't know anymore. Somewhere deep down, up until this day at least, I still believe that I am, even though she is gone. She’s still here, somewhere. Claire was special or at least, she was to me.

“She loved poetry, but didn’t write it. She had books upon books filled with poems by her favourites. If you’d touch them, she’d grill you.” There was a sad smile on his lips as he thought back at this, how she had lashed out on him even flipping through one of them without asking her. “Books, that was one of the things that she loved the most.

“If I am honest, I didn’t prepare for this. Nothing that I could get on paper felt like it fit her.  I can’t describe her in a way that you’d get, not completely. What I can tell you, is that she loved songs. Blackbird, it was her favourite of all time. Every time that she was upset, I remember her coming into my room because she knew that I’d be there and she would ask me, Cassie, blackbird? And I’d sing it to her. Every sentence in the whole song and she would calm down. Often, mom would wake up to the two of us sleeping together, even though Claire was supposed to sleep in her crib. I remember that time, even if it is a very vague period for me and Claire knows more about it then me.

“We used to be best buddies and then I got stupid, life got in the way for me and I pushed her away, though I probably kept her closer than I did with most people. I shouldn’t have done that, I should have kept her close. Past weeks, we spend so much time together, so many days that I can look back on and smile, because she was the perfect hostess, because she was happy and she smiled. She showed me that even though something happened five years ago, that it doesn’t mean that it has to be the same now.” He looked right at Dean, who he knew didn’t want to look him in the eye. “That you can love somebody for years and not realize it yourself, that even though somebody got rough with you, that it doesn’t mean that that person doesn’t care about you because often, they do care, they just hide it away sometimes. And I guess that I did the same too. I did many things that I am not proud of, but she helps me get on a better path.

“I will remember her as the brightest of people who maybe had her weak moments, but who almost always managed to smile, who was always there, for everybody, no matter how difficult a time she had. She always put other people first, always wanted to make sure that the people around her were doing okay before she even thought about herself.

“I will remember that she loved books. She could finish them in a day and then jump around me, telling me to read them. But most of all? I will remember that death is not the end. She’ll live on.” There was a slight smile on his lips though tears now openly streamed down his cheeks. “To me, she is always going to be my baby sister, whether she likes it or not. And, you know. I’ll finish off the way that only feels right because it is her right there in the coffin. Blackbird fly, blackbird fly, into the light of the dark black night. Blackbird fly, blackbird fly, into the light of the dark black night. She’ll always be my little blackbird, no matter where she flies. Hope you’re up there in heaven, Claire, because if there is one person in this world who deserves paradise, it is you.”

It took him a few seconds before he managed to sit back down and calm his breathing, before the tears stopped flowing down his cheeks like rivers. He felt a hand on his knee, giving him a comforting squeeze. He didn’t know how long that it would be, how long that he could hang on without running out of strength.

“Just a few more minutes now,” Dean whispered under his breathe, “hang in there buddy. We’ll be out of here before you know it. You’re going to be okay for that little while longer?” Without even thinking about it, he reached out for Dean’s hand, took his in his own. He didn’t even know why he took it, thinking back on it now, all he knew was that it helped, that it kept them sane. He noticed that when Sam looked at them, he had the tiniest of smiles on his lips. Dean seemed to be surprised at his action, but didn’t let his hand go, not yet. He even gave him a little squeeze.

“On behalf of Claire's family I would like to thank you all for attending this service of respect and dedication for their beloved, Claire. This service to show her how much everybody around her cared for her

“Death in a number of ways unites us all, and her death for a time demands that each one of us put aside our toil, our cares and pleasures to unite ourselves with everyone here, mourners all who share in the common bond of love and friendship for their friend. The love that everbody present here feels for Claire.

“With our last thoughts and respect for Claire, I think it is fitting that we should reflect on her time with us and the influence he had in your lives. Claire left a fingerprint on everybody, for some it is a small print, for the people that she only vaguely knew and for some, like her brother just told us, the print is big.

“This tragic end to someone so full of life is sad, because we grieve most for the passing of the young. This very grief is a token that death cannot take from us, the most precious of treasures namely love. It is the tear of love that flows the fullest. The pain of love that aches the deepest. The thoughts of love that move most actively. The intense feeling of loves that grieves for one so young. That nature it 'self is teaching us to keep hold of something, something that is truly worth keeping. For of all the memories, the memory of the young moves us more deeply than any other memories.

“You may like to take a few moments before we say farewell to Claire, please think of her as you remember her, the loving person she truly was, and also her influence she made on your life, whilst we listen to one of her favorite song's, Through the Ghost. Thank you Ladies and Gentlemen.”

Cas was glad to be able to breathe fresh air when he finally got out. The last song, Through the ghost, it had made things so much worse for him. So much of it all related to her even though people didn’t understand, so much of it was just her.

Dean and Sam stood with him as they saw the car drive off with Claire’s body. He felt Dean's hand on his shoulder, felt Sam's gaze almost burn, but he couldn't pull his eyes away from the car. It would come back, but what he took was no longer Claire, it was her reduced to ashes. Damn ashes. Castiel didn’t know if his mother had chosen for a hunter type funeral with that intention of because it was something unconscious. He hoped that he would never have been forced to plan something similar like this, he didn’t know how well he would hold up.

“You did good up there,” Dean said with gentle and worried expression in his eyes. “You were brave. I told you that you could do it.”

“I was a mess up there.” Cas felt anything but good about what he had said. The words were right, but the way that he had said them, the tears that had streamed down his face, it had been messy, awful.

“Dude, people didn’t expect you to be put together or even complete,” Dean said, pulling Cas away from the people going around, saying their condolences. He knew that it was the last thing that Cas needed, especially now he was this close to crying already. Dean could see the tears in his eyes and the way that he looked at a fixed point somewhere in the woods around the church, desperate not to cry.

“I wanted to be,” Cas admitted, “for Claire.” The first of tears escaped, marked its’ way down to the corner of Cas’s lips. “I couldn’t even do that for her Dean, what kind of brother am I? There was one thing that I could do for her and I messed up.” His words sounded broken.

"You’re a good brother,” he said, before pulling Cas in for a hug. He wouldn’t have done it let’s say a few months ago, especially not with that many people around them, but well, Cas needed it. He needed the hug. He felt the oxygen machine slam against his hip. There would probably a bruise from it the following day, but he didn’t care, not enough.

Cas sobbed in his arms, his head resting on Dean's shoulder. It was the most vulnerable that Dean had ever seen him, except for that night, that night that he knew he remembered all too clearly, the kissing, Cas’s naked skin against his. Ever since, he had started to come to terms with it all, that he indeed was falling in love with a man that he liked.

Before, it had always been girls that he really liked, any relationships with boys had been for nothing but the thrill of it, the sneaking around. Sammy couldn’t find out and neither could John. The relationships had been all about that. Of course, he had been in love with a man before, once or twice, but it had never lasted. That was why he was so scared to act on his feelings this time, afraid that when they’d get together at some point, the love or whatever it was would freeze over. Cas was already so broken, he couldn’t afford to break him any more than he already did, no matter how much he wanted those lips on his or no matter how hard he wanted to tell Cas those words.

“You tried your best Cas,” he said, “you tried all you could to find a way, she knew that. She knew that she could count on you, She wasn’t alone when she passed, you were right there with her. That makes you a better brother than anybody in this whole bloody church can ever say they are to their family.” He glanced around to the back, to see if anybody was watching them, before pressing a quick kiss into his hair. He was sure that Cas couldn’t even feel with, with his thick head of curls bouncing around. “Never doubt yourself, okay?”

“Okay.” His reply was soft, a whisper, but it was loud enough for him to hear. “Okay.”

“That’s good.” Cas detangled himself from Dean’s hug, standing back a little awkwardly.

“Thank you, Dean,” he said, almost whispered, “for everything.” Dean just shook his head, a kind small smile on his lips.

“Do you want to go say hi to your family?” Dean asked.

“Not really,” Cas sighed, “but we’ll have to, won’t we? They’ll be pissed that I didn’t go say hi before sitting down.” Dean saw Cas shake his head. “Let’s go then, before they make a scene about it at the coffee table thing, or whatever that is called. Where is Sam?” When he looked up, he saw Sam standing with Amelia and Jimmy, talking to them looking at Cas and him with a smile on his lips.

“Right there.”

 

His mother didn’t seem to be too upset with Cas not saying anything before the funeral started, though his father was more than disappointed. Amelia pulled Cas closer, hugged him tight. Cas realized that Dean felt more than awkward, but knew that there was nothing that he could do about that.

“Thank you for speaking, Castiel,” she whispered in his ear before letting him go. “She would have loved your words.”

“I hope so,” he sighed, before stepping back. He himself didn’t feel comfortable around his parents either, no matter how bad that might be. “I only hope so.”

 

They sat around in a little cafeteria for a half an hour to an hour before they called that they could come to the cemetery. Cas went with them a little hesitant. He didn’t think that he’d be able to handle seeing her being lowered into the ground like that.

In the end, it appeared that he couldn’t. Just seeing the urn standing there already brought tears into his eyes. When the urn was lowed in the tiny piece of dirt, he let the tears run free. It was almost as if there was a waterfall running down his cheeks that couldn’t be stopped. It couldn’t be stopped either, no matter how hard he tried not to cry or not to sob, he couldn’t. The tears, they just kept coming. Dean put a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him, even though his attempt was futile.

“As a last word of goodbye,” Amelia said, standing next to the urn, eyes fixed on the remains of Claire, “we’ve decided to read a poem that was very dear to her, one that she liked very much. It is a poem by Arti Copra called darkest before the dawn.

“Its darkest before dawn

so remember

when you are driven 

to the depths of despair

when life seems 

lacklustre, 

colourless

hopless, and beyond repair, 

theres going to be a new morn

bright 

promising

lit with the warm rays of hope, 

another tomorrow, 

that brings with it 

fresh endeavour.”

Cas recognized the words. She had read them so many times, until the pages in her book were thorn and folded. He had never gotten why she thought that it was so beautiful or why it had been tucked into his suitcase when he went to college. But that was Claire, sometimes she did things that were just weird, sometimes she liked weird things, she had always been that way.

 

Back at home, he shrugged off his suit the second that he could. Taking it of felt like being free for the first time in forever. He sat with Sam and Dean for about ten minutes, before he felt the tears sting in his eyes again and escaped to his, well right now their bedroom, closing the door behind him. They would take the hint and know that he wanted to be left alone, probably.

He didn’t even know when he fell asleep, when all the crying that he had done that day was enough or maybe too much. He knew that he slept with the oxygen still turned on and that it was probably the best day of sleep that he’d gotten in ages.

Around seven PM, Dean came in to see how he was going. He wasn't awake at that point and from the looks of it, Dean had been forced to shake him awake quite violently before he even moved a muscle. The night had been pleasant, a dark pit of oblivion in which there were no nightmares, no memories, just sleeping and never waking up.

“Cas! Cas.” He recognized Dean’s voice, but blocked it out, crawling only deeper under the blankets. The blankets were safe. “You got to eat, buddy, you'll starve.”

“I’m not hungry,” he murmured, voice raw from all the crying and screaming in his pillow he had done. It had almost been a miracle that neither Dean nor Sam had heard him break down. “Go ahead and eat without me.”

“Cas, you have to eat, you’ve got to take care of yourself.”

“I said I’m not hungry Dean,” he snapped, sounding sharper than he had intended. He ignored the slight expression of hurt in Dean's eyes. “If I'm not hungry, I'm not hungry.”

 

Cas didn’t come out of his bedroom that night. When both Dean and Sam came in to sleep, he was still awake, but pretended to be sleeping. The next morning was the first time that he felt like he was brave enough to put a smile on his lips and be okay.

By his birthday a few days later, which he attempted to let pass without either Sam or Dean noticing, he learned how to smile and not smile at the same time. He learned how to hide his feelings better than ever before. His birthday was a hard day though, knowing that his sister wouldn’t be knocking down his door because she wanted to wish him a happy birthday, no present from her, no seeing her smile.

He was down the whole day, barely said anything and ignored everybody who called him to wish him a happy birthday. He didn’t even care anymore who he hurt and who he didn’t hurt. Ignoring text messages was the only way that he could get through the day.

That was until Dean found out that it was his birthday. It was five PM by the time that he did though and well, he wasn’t happy about it.

His mother had texted him a little while ago, but the text message was still open on his cell. _Happy birthday son! I hope you are having a decent day today – I know that I shouldn’t wish you a happy birthday, it won’t be a happy day, I know – and that you get to celebrate with the boys! Stay at least a little bit sober and safe. Love, mom._ Dean was angry about not telling him about his birthday, which Cas could understand.

That night, he bought them a pie and they celebrated, even though Cas wasn't up for it. Hell, Castiel was probably the grumpiest person in the room and it was his own party, but they seemed to understand. He forced down a piece of cake and smiled.

It was starting that night that he learned how to hide his sadness for everybody else and drink without anybody noticing too much. Dean knew when Castiel was having a rough time, but that was just because of some freaky superpowers. He put up a face for everybody else.

Only with Dean did he allow the sadness to drown him.

 


	16. Excuse me?

_So now I come to you_  
With open arms  
Nothing to hide  
Believe what I say  
So here I am  
With open arms  
Hoping you'll see  
What your love means to me

**_Open arms - Journey_ **

 “Cas! I’m going out, do you need anything?” Cas heard Dean yell a cold October day. Over a month and a half had passed since the funeral. Even though Cas still had moments in which he felt like he wanted to jump out of the first window that he saw, things were finally looking up. He had been working for a month and just received his first pay check. Now that there was money coming in, he and Dean – who still lived in his apartment – were a little less tight on money.

“We’re out of tea,” Cas said, emerging from the bathroom half dressed. “Do you mind waiting a few minutes? I’m coming with.” Today was his first Saturday off in quite a while and well, he kind of needed it. The past three weeks he’d worked Monday through Saturday from six until six if he was lucky, but more often he’d been forced to work until seven. In those days, Cas and Dean never really got a chance to talk or do anything really. The second that Cas got home, he crawled into bed because he was too tired to keep his eyes open.

He didn’t even attempt to pretend that Dean and Castiel were getting to know each other better, because they never saw each other. Dean had agreed to temporarily work for a little while, so that he could help pay some of the bills, so the two of them were working their asses off. Cas didn’t pretend that they were growing closer together or that they were even getting to know each other. All of this was just stressful and well, if he was honest, they weren’t anything but friends. That didn’t mean that Dean didn’t sometimes crawl into bed next to him if Cas was having a rough time, if he was having a nightmares.

All of it was just a little bit messed up for Castiel. He didn’t know what to think or what to feel. One moment they seemed to be getting close and the other moment they were distant.

“Sure,” Dean said, “just hurry up.” Cas quickly pulled his shirt over his head and shrugged on his trench coat.

“I’m ready,” he said, waiting by the door as Dean suddenly left the room.

“You’re not,” Dean said, carrying the travel oxygen in his hands. “Your oxygen. It’s bad enough that you don’t want to use it when you’re having clients.” His lungs had gotten better since he had tried to quit smoking, but he still was on two litres of oxygen for him to be the slightest bit comfortable and well, be able to breathe and walk without being and idiot. “You’re going to use it outside of work hours.”

“Dean,” he sighed. “I don’t need it.”

“No Cas, that was the deal,” he said, “you help your lungs get better, you wear the damn thing. You know you’re not getting rid of me until you are better.”

 

They took the Impala to the grocery shop, the same way that they had done the past couple of weeks. Dean had been working on Cas’s car, so it would be a little better, safer, less like a _thing_ and more than a car. He longed for the day that he could have his own car back, with seatbelts and airbags, the car that was safe to drive in, not the Impala. Dean had promised him that it actually was sort of ready, he just needed to work on the inside a little bit before he could get it back.

The oxygen concentrator sat on his lap, bumping around as Dean took turns and eventually parked the car. It had been ages since he had been able to do simple things like grocery shopping because of the hours that he worked. It felt oddly comforting.

“Do we need much?” Cas asked, putting his concentrator in the kid’s seat of the shopping cart before pushing it into the shop. He was fine with carrying it over his shoulders at first, but he was starting to notice how his shoulders started to get sore from the weight that hung on them.

“The basics,” Dean said, “eggs, meat, beer because we’re out.” Cas tried not to look at Dean at the mention of running out of beer – that had been pretty much his fault. The past few days had been rough and he had needed the little pick me up that the beer provided him. Whiskey was better but Dean almost forbid him to drink it unless it was a special occasion. “But I think that’s that.”

There was a reason that Cas didn’t like going to the grocery store and he was too scared to say it to Dean. He hated the staring, previously at just him and now it was the two of them. Everybody always stared at the oxygen, at everything. It had been the same way in college, when he had first set foot into his dorm. All the students, including his roommate, had stared at him as if he was a weirdo, a freak.

He threw a forced smile at one of the older women who passed by and had been looking at him, before putting the last things into the cart. As long as there weren’t too many things that they’d need, it’d be fine. It should be at least.

 

Back at home, he threw the keys down on the kitchen table before helping him pack everything away. They hadn’t bought that much, but it always was a pain to cram everything in the tiny kitchen. Getting everything in the cupboards and tiny fridge was almost impossible, no matter how little they bought.

“That’s it,” Dean growled. “We need to buy _something_ to stack stuff away.”

“You know this is temporary,” Cas said, picking up the bills from the kitchen table, “just until I find a better place that I can afford. It shouldn’t be too long now. I’ve got a little bit of money saved up.”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” Dean grumbled, “but I feel like I can’t even walk around here without bumping into something.”

“If you don’t like it, you don’t have to stay here Dean,” Cas said, “I’m doing better and you know that damn well.”

“Doesn’t mean that I can’t take care of you man,” Dean said, before falling down on the couch. The bell rang through the apartment. “Do you mind getting that? I’ll get started on some food for the two of us.”

 

When Cas opened the door, he was in for quite the surprise. In front of him was a woman that looked utterly unfamiliar, she had a baby in her arms and well, looked awfully nervous. The baby - probably a boy judging from his clothes - was asleep on her chest, supported by a carrier. He smiled slightly in his sleep, lips hanging open.

“Is Dean Winchester around by chance?” she asked, chewing on her bottom lip. “Sam said that I could find him here. I’m Lisa?”

“Yeah,” Cas said, making way so that she could walk in. “Come on in. He’s in the kitchen.” Cas had no idea who the woman was or how she even knew Dean, but if Sam had sent her, it would be okay, right? Hell, if it was a problem, Dean could just throw her out, not that he probably would considering the baby.

“He’ll be right out,” Cas promised the woman after she sat down in the couch. “Dean!” he yelled from the door, “you’ve got visitors.” Dean poked his head out of the kitchen. The look on his face froze when he saw Lisa sitting in the sofa.

“Do you mind watching the sausages for a bit? I’ll be right back.” Dean's face pulled up in a frown, something that he rarely saw in Dean and especially _not_ when he looked at a woman.

“Sure,” Cas mumbled confused.

 

He stood prodding the sausages for a while, until they seemed to be cooked through. Dean was still talking to the woman and each time that Cas poked his head around the corner, he seemed to be a little bit more concerned. Cas didn’t want to get between the two of them, so he hid out in the kitchen for a little while they talked, taking sips of his coffee and thinking. If there was something serious that was going on, he didn’t need to barge in on them.

“Hi, Cas buddy, you mind coming for a second?” he heard Dean say after poking his head through the door. “This is a conversation that you should probably be present for.”

Nervously, he followed Dean to the living room, where Lisa had put the baby on her lap. “So, what is going on guys?”

“Cas,” Dean said, “I want you to meet little Ben over here. He just turned two weeks old the other day.” He reached out his arms and took Ben from Lisa. Dean was oddly gentle with him, bracing him in his arms, head resting in the crook of his arm. There was a slight smile on his lips. A shocked smile, yes but it was a smile and that was the most important part of it all. “He’s my son.”

Cas couldn’t help just staring at the three of them. “Your… your son?” He couldn’t see the similarities between the baby and Dean but then, babies rarely resembled their parents until they grew older and into the characteristics, like eyes and face.

“Yes.” Dean seemed to be nervous for Cas’s reaction. “Lisa, she’s in college. She says that she can’t take care for him anymore.” He saw the girl nod in the corner of his eye, a sad look in her eyes.

“I wish I could, I really do, I just can’t. I have so much damn work at Stanford and my mother, well, she works all the time and wasn't happy with Ben relentless, so.”

“And you want to take him in?” It was surprising how easy it was for Cas to read Dean’s face now, now that they’d been spending so much time together. “You want to be his father, don’t you?” Dean just nodded. “Okay then. I take it that you are still staying here?”

“If that’s okay with you,” Dean said. “I mean, if you don’t want the baby in your apartment, that’s fine! I’ll just look for some place else to rent. I'd be out by tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Cas said. He still didn’t exactly grasp the fact that that tiny bundle in Dean’s arms was actually Dean’s kid. “You don’t have to find a new place Dean. He can stay here as long as you both like.” If Dean hadn’t been holding the baby, Cas was sure that he’d been hugged that exact moment, judging from the expression in Dean’s eyes. “But we don’t have anything for him, not a place for him to sleep, no clothes to put him in, nothing.” He could almost see the money drain out of his bank account just thinking about how much it would cost to buy a crib, how much it cost to buy clothes, formula, diapers. He's just gotten a little money saved up. _Great_.

“You can have what I have at home. The crib was my old crib so mom wouldn’t part with it, but the other stuff, you can have it,” Lisa said, “I brought it in the trunk of the car.”

 

Dean and Lisa carried all of the stuff upstairs. Cas had wanted to help, but Dean had told him not too. It wouldn’t be good to strain himself with his lungs being as crappy as they were and somebody needed to take care of Ben while they worked anyway.

That was the reason that Ben lay sleeping in Cas’s arms while Dean put box after box in the corner of the room. Castiel didn't mind being on babysitter duty for now, not now Ben appeared to be content in his arms. The second he'd start crying though, he knew that It would be something completely else.

Cas was wondering if there was ever going to be an end to the flow of baby stuff. At least half of the boxes were labelled either _diapers_ or _clothing_. How much clothing and diapers did a little one need? This probably wouldn’t even fit in his room.

“I’m sorry it’s not more,” Lisa said. “I really am. But I don’t know, there is some things that I’d like to hang on to. Can I say bye to him before I leave?”

“Sure thing,” Cas said, handing him to Lisa, careful not to disturb the peacefully sleeping baby boy. “I’ll go ahead and finish breakfast.” He glanced meaningfully at Dean, before disappearing into the kitchen.

 

Their food had cooled down from being out in the open too long after getting out of the skillet, but it was still warm enough to eat it without warming it up. Cas couldn't shake the feeling of how weird it was. He was only twenty-three without a boyfriend, with a first stable job that he'd only had for a couple of weeks and he already had a tiny one to help raise. It wasn't his kid, after all, it was Dean's.

Still, it was weird to Cas, he didn't mind, but it was weird. There was so much space in the tiny apartment that they'd have to sacrifice for Ben. Cas didn't know what he was getting himself into, sleepless nights, going to work after only getting a few hours in, heck, sharing the bedroom with a baby. All of that felt so weird. It was worth it, he hoped. He could see Dean truly happy or at least had a chance to do that. How could he take that away from him by forcing him to get an apartment of his own? He wasn't heartless.

He had realized that when he saw Dean's smile. When he had seen him smile at the baby boy, when he had seen how careful Dean had been in holding Ben. How much of a father he already was. Castiel did notice that Dean seemed to be afraid though. Afraid to do certain things wrong or not be a good father. That was what Castiel thought it was at least.

 

He heard the door close in the other room, before Dean came walking in with Ben on his arm. It looked weird, seeing a muscled arm holding a tiny baby boy. He almost drowned in his arm, not that Ben minded. He slept away quietly and blissfully, hands holding his father's plaid shirt.

"I told her that she could come see him whenever she wanted," Dean said, before sitting down in front of his plate of food. "That's okay, right? And you are okay with the two of us staying here, aren't you? I don't want to force my stay if you really don't want us here."

"It's okay Dean," Cas sighed, before sitting down opposite him. "Like I said, you're my friend. I can't have you stay in a motel with a freaking baby."

"We should get started at going through the boxes sooner than later," Cas said, before digging in his food. "We're going to need the diapers and everything."

"Yeah," Dean said, struggling to bring his fork to his mouth without dropping anything on the kid. "Soon, before Ben gets cranky."

"We're going to have to arrange out schedules though." Castiel looked up from his fork. "Because I don't know how this is going to work out if I am at work from six until six and you have work all the time too. We can't afford a babysitter." He looked at it from the practical side, from the point of view that calculated in the money they'd be spending. “Sure, I have some money saved up and you're making money too, but if I want a bigger apartment, we're going to have avoid paying a dangerously expensive baby sitter.”

"I'll make arrangements with the boss, he'll probably be fine with it if little Ben comes over once or twice while I work,” Dean said, “at least, that's what I think. For the weekends we can always call Sammy to watch him. He'd be happy to do that.”

"Maybe I could talk to my boss and see if I can work from the apartment every once in a while when it is needed. I can do the same things here as I can at the office." A piece of egg almost landed in Ben's dark blond hair after it escaped Dean's fork. "Give me that baby before you use him as a plate."

Reluctantly, Dean handed Ben to Cas, who had just finished his plate of food. Ben looked up at the two of them curiously, before getting comfortable in Cas's arms, his little hand wrapped around the oxygen cannula. Cas laughed at it, trying to get the cannula out of Ben's hand. In exchange, Ben had a tight grip on his finger.

"That's not a toy," he smiled, "that's a human finger little one, but it is better than the cannula. I need that thing to breathe you know."

Dean looked at him with a smile on his lips. It was almost like a grin.

"Anybody ever tell you that you are adorable with kids?" he asked, mouth full of egg and sausage, "because you are." A blush crept up Castiel's cheeks. Why was he blushing? It was just a compliment, god damn. He wanted to say something, but bit his tongue. Saying that Dean was adorable around Ben wasn't going to help anything at all, especially not in Castiel's favour.

"I'm not," Cas said, smiling, "girls are adorable. A boy can't be adorable."

"What, do you refer cute?" Dean asked, eyebrows raised. "Because I am willing to use cute m'boy."

"Please, no," he groaned, "stick with adorable. Please stick with adorable."

 

They started unpacking the basics from the boxes. A bouncer - which came in very handy when they had to set Ben down for a little bit, play mat and at least fifteen different outfits soon littered the living room, a travel crib and temporary changing table complete with diapers and wipes in their bedroom, the bottles and formula were in the kitchen and at least a dozen teddy bears were spread all over the house.

For one thing, both of them weren't cut out to be new fathers from square one, not at all. When Ben started crying, the two of them just looked at each other, waiting to see who was going to see what was wrong, what the little nugget needed help with.

The first time it happened, it was a diaper that needed changing and the second time formula. Cas got lucky with feeding him his first bottle at his new home. He could see the jealous way that Dean looked at him, after getting to change a diaper for the first time, but hey, Dean had chosen to solve the problem that time.

"Maybe you should put the car seat in my car for the time being," Cas said, watching the last few boxes that were still standing in the corner of the room. "The Impala doesn't exactly have seatbelts. My car does." He knew that Dean would want to protest about this. The hate that Dean had for Cas's old '78 Ford Cortina was not hidden at all, but it was the best option that they had.

"I'm not installing seatbelts in Baby," Dean grumbled, "I'm going to finish fixing your car first thing."

"I'll tackle the stroller," Cas mumbled, eyes on the swing in the corner that was rocking Ben to sleep gently. He had put it on the slowest setting after messing with it for a little while, positive that he would never get one of those things if he could ever help it. "It shouldn't be that hard. You go install the car seat, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Dean grumbled, before picking the box up and leaving the apartment.

"Your daddy is stubborn," Cas said with a smile on his lips as he pulled the box to the stroller closer to him. "I'm going to do you a favour and if I am still alive by the time that you turn eighteen, I'm going to give you a old battered car that you'll love and your daddy'll hate. You'll thank me for that, trust me." Ben was oblivious to the words, sleeping away. "He'll never drive that thing even if he gets paid to to so. I don't see the problem, it drives just fine. Maybe it isn't an Impala, but hey. It's something." He smiled at his own words. "You know, your daddy is a little confusing sometimes. Half of the time I can't figure out if we are just friends or if there is something more going on that I am just oblivious to. But that is nothing for your young little ears, is it? Now, how hard can it be to fix a stroller huh? Not that hard I fathom."

 

It appeared to be more difficult than Cas thought to get the stroller to be in one piece. He had to screw on the wheels three times, had to fix the frame a few times, but eventually managed to get the stroller to stand up without falling apart again. The stroller wasn't exactly fit for little Ben just yet, but when you clicked the car seat in, it should work out.

Proud of his work, he picked up Ben from the swing - he didn't appear to be all too happy about being taken away from the relaxing swinging motion - and walked down the stairs to the parking lot, where Dean was working on the car seat.

He tried to balance out little Ben - who barely weighed anything - and the oxygen concentrator - which was actually heavier than Ben - on his shoulders so it wouldn't look too silly as he walked down the endless stairs to the parking lot. The next door neighbour threw him a smile as he passed her in the hallway.

"I didn't know that you and Dean were adopting," she said with a smile, "congratulations on the cutie. What's his name? He looks like Dean. He has those apple green eyes that " Charlie stretched out her hand, rubbing Ben's chubby cheeks. He continued sleeping, completely oblivious to the stranger.

"Dean's just a friend, Charlie," Cas said, rolling his eyes at the all too energetic teenager. "We haven't adopted Ben, his mother just went to college so he gets to spend time with daddy Dean."

"Wait for it," Charlie said, shrugging. "Later!"

 

Dean was about done working on the car seat by the time that he got downstairs. He seemed to be almost angry as he clicked the carrier in the base and it wouldn't latch on.

"Oh come on!" he said, throwing his hands in the air the way that teenage girls always did in movies. "Just latch on will you.” Castiel had to suppress a laugh at the sight of Dean.

"Try turning it around," Cas offered with a smile on his lips. "Babies are supposed to be rear facing until they are at least one year old." Dean tried and the locks clicked in place perfectly.

"And here I thought that you didn't know anything about babies," Dean said, shaking his head. "Is the stroller still alive? Or did you break it?"

"It rolls," Castiel admitted proudly, "and it carries him. I think it's a win win situation."

"Well, get it downstairs. We need to get a crib, because I don't want this buddy sleeping in a travel crib of which I can barely reach the bottom," Dean said. "Lisa left us some money to buy it with. I don't know why." Cas nodded, before handing Ben to Dean and quickly going upstairs.

 

When they were ready to roll, the back seat was stuffed. Dean had decided to sit in the back and watch Ben, who sat in his car seat with a content look on his little face. The diaper bag was back there too, so that in case Dean needed to use a wipe or anything like that, they wouldn't have to pull over and get it out.

Apparently, the car had been fixed to an extend that Dean would actually drive in it without being too worried, even though Castiel had taken the wheel.

"Do you have any idea where you want to look for a crib?" Castiel asked Dean, no idea where the hell they would find a store that sold cribs in Lawrence, Kansas. He knew that there were a few around, he was just unsure of where the stores where. "Or do you have any idea where the hell they even sell them?"

"Not the slightest cue. I hadn't really thought about that yet. Target?" he asked sheepishly.

"We'll see. I want to pick up some stuff anyway," Cas muttered, "we don't have anything to wash the bottles with and we barely have any formula." He noticed that he looked to the back of the car every few minutes, seeing if Dean was still okay and Ben was still breathing. He felt anxious driving with a baby in the back seat, afraid of making sudden turns or speeding the slightest. Damn, he was turning into a softie.

 

In target, they found one or two cribs that were possibilities, but neither of them really liked them. Cas didn’t even know why he was tagging along in buying the crib, because after all, Ben wasn’t his child, he wasn’t exactly involved in any of this. Ben couldn't care less about something like a crib, as long as they kept moving and he wasn't in his stroller too long without being wheeled around. Cas loved seeing Dean with Ben in his arms when he’d had enough, it reminded him that Dean had a very soft core down

In target, they found one or two cribs that were possibilities, but neither of them really liked them. Cas didn’t even know why he was tagging along in buying the crib, because after all, Ben wasn’t his child, he wasn’t exactly involved in any of this. Ben couldn't care less about something like a crib, as long as they kept moving and he wasn't in his stroller too long without being wheeled around. Cas loved seeing Dean with Ben in his arms when he’d had enough, it reminded him that Dean had a very soft core down

"That's it," Dean muttered after checking out their formula, a pack of diapers and some other crap they had found for Ben. Cas had felt awkward walking between the isles with kid’s stuff, unsure of which size the kid was even supposed to wear, what kind of pacifiers he would like, anything. "We're driving to IKEA when we get the chance.”

"Sure," Cas said, before clicking Ben into his car seat, “we’ll drive there now, but if we don't find a crib there, we're giving up for today, okay?"

"Okay."

 

After looking through at least four different sections of the store, they eventually found their way to the baby stuff. They had wanted to go on ahead and head straight for the children’s section, but something about comfortable sofa’s had lured them in. Ben had been asleep anyway, so they had a little time on their hands. Cas's couch was comfortable, but it was deadbeat. It wouldn't survive much longer. They could at least have a look at what might be replacing it and be very tempted to buy a replacement already.

One of the perks of having Ben with them in a stroller was being able to use the elevator to go to the first floor. The handles of the stroller were more then generously filled. His oxygen dangled from one end and the diaper bag from the other. Both of the things were equally heavy.

He didn't even know what kind of crap was stuffed in the diaper bag. He knew that there was a bottle in there somewhere and a lot of fabric, but he didn't know the specifics of it. Lisa had left it with them packed.

For once, he didn't even care about the looks that strangers shot him as they passed. He didn't even care that they stared at the ribbons in his nose or the oxygen. For once, he was just a guy pushing a stroller.

"This is it," Dean said with a smile as he lingered by one of the cribs, sliding his hand over the woodwork. "I like this one." It was a simple grey crib, nothing fancy, no curves and shapes or anything, but it was okay. It wasn't too expensive either.

"Good," Cas said, a slight smile on his lips. "Then this is the one." Ben was getting crabby in his stroller, rubbing his hands around his mouth, as if he wanted to scream at Dean _Daddy! I am hungry! Feed me._

“We should hurry.”

 

They ended up finding a microwave to warm up the bottle before Ben started screaming. IKEA was one of those handy stores where you could actually sit down and eat, so of course, they had a microwave.

"Next time," Cas said, holding Ben who was chewing on his sleeve until his bottle was ready, "we should leave home only if we know that he will not be hungry again anytime soon."

"Good idea," Dean muttered, before testing the temperature of the bottle and taking Ben from Cas. Cas loved the proud look on Dean's face as Ben happily started sucking on the bottle, welcoming the milk. He really was cut out to be a father, emotionally. He had been a little worried about how Dean would accept suddenly being a father without any notion before, but he did so gracefully. "He never started screaming though, that's a start."

"That's one thing," Cas mumbled, before sitting down in one of the chairs. "He really was hungry huh?"

"I guess so," Dean said, looking down at Ben with a smile on his face. "Is there anything else that you want to go look at before we go pick up the build set for the crib and head home? This little buddy will be content for a little while now anyway.

"Yes. We're going to need something to use as a changing table for a little while, because we have no place to store his clothing either."

 

They eventually found a cabinet that could work as a changing table and had plenty of room to store the clothes that Ben had that matched with the crib. As they checked out, Cas could almost literally feel his wallet getting lighter. He still had a bit of money on the bank, so it wasn't like they were running low on money anymore, but babies were expensive. _Damn._

Ben slept the entire drive home. Cas had never been more grateful for their car seat, knowing that they didn't have to unbuckle Ben and then rebuckle him. He had a feeling like that wouldn't go all too well.

 

By five o'clock, the crib was starting to get together. Cas was sitting in the sofa, watching Dean screw everything in place, trying not to think about the fact that Dean was adorable as a father, how handsome he looked in that V-neck. Sometimes, the thoughts just came to him, like a tidal wave of inappropriate things.

Not that he minded. Looking at a good lucking man never hurt anyone, especially not if you were for that team. Now that there was Ben to think about too, things got a little bit more awkward though. He could pretend not be staring at him but at Ben now though, and that was a good thing, because Castiel had found him checking Dean out more than a few times over the past couple of weeks.

"Are you just going to sit there and stare at me?" Dean asked, turning around with a playful smile on his lips. "Or are you going to get off your lazy ass and screw that dresser together?"

_This is the one with the better view_ , Cas thought, before reluctantly getting up and picking up the box with the dresser in it. It shouldn't be too hard screwing it together. It was a bloody dresser with a manual in English. It shouldn't be too hard, right?

 

It appeared to be harder than it looked. This time though, Dean was the one sitting in the couch with baby Ben on his lap, staring at him.

Dean liked staring at Cas when he didn't notice it or at least wasn't aware of it yet. Cas always had a wall up, always had some kind of defence mechanism going on. Even though the two of them had been sharing an apartment for about a month and a half now, Dean had never seen that wall go down unless he was alone. Dean noticed it when Cas hid in the bathroom to smoke, but not to just smoke. Half of the time, he could hear the sobs through the thin walls, he could hear how broken Cas still sounded, even though he swore up and down that he was doing more than fine and that Dean didn't have to worry.

Dean worried for Cas, but didn't show it. Like he didn't show that he actually did like the fact that Cas stared at him sometimes, how he liked it, sort of. It was all so weird. Dean knew where his emotions were going, he knew that somewhere deep down he indeed felt something for Cas.

If only he could be sure that he wouldn't fuck their friendship up by acting on his feels. Now with Ben there too, this were even more complicated. If Dean acted on his feelings and he kissed Cas, Cas could throw the out of the house, he could have the two of them stay in a motel until they could afford to rent something. Somewhere deep down, he knew that he wouldn't. Heck, Cas seemed to love the little nugget as much as Dean already did, but he was still scared for it. Scared of fucking up.

"You know," Cas said, a laugh in his voice. "If you aren't going to stop staring at me you can finish this up yourself, got that?" The dresser was almost standing now. The only thing that still had to be fixed up were the drawers itself.

"Sorry, too busy." Dean had to bite back a laugh. "Got a baby to entertain. Isn't that the case Ben?" He smiled down at the baby boy that stared up at him with his own eyes, just a little bit lighter. "You need to be entertained don't you?"

"Where are we going to put the crib anyway?" Cas asked him. "There's no way we can cram it in a corner and the two mattresses are kind of in the way if you want to have him closer to you."

"We'll see about that," Dean muttered, before laying Ben on his shoulder. "Come Ben-o, let's see where we can put your crib huh."

 

It was the truth, there was no way that they were going to cram the crib anywhere with the two mattresses there. Dean had an idea about that, but he was too damn embarrassed to actually say something about that idea to Cas. If they would get one mattress out and bring it out to the garage or something, they could share the twin bed and the crib could be on his side. That way, if Ben were to get crabby in the middle of the night, Dean could easily get to him.

"Well, we could," Dean said, blushing. He had to muster up every tiny bit of courage that he had. "We could get, you know, one mattress out?" He bit his bottom lip, waiting for Cas's reply. "It would be easier and we'd have some room to put the crib and the dresser and you know. It'd be nice to, you know, be able to walk around?" Cas didn't answer him, he just stared. "But if you think that it is a bad idea, you know, of course it is a bad idea. Forget that I ever suggested it. Never mind. Just, never mind."

"It's a decent idea, Dean," Cas said, shrugging. "We could have Sam pick up the mattress for his bed in the dorm. Those mattresses are the definition of crappy. I've been there, I've slept on them." Cas didn't know how comfortable either of them would be during those first nights, but well, it was the best guess that they had. "I could give him a call? He should know about Ben either way, right? I mean, he's an uncle." Cas bit back a laugh. "You know that he's going to feel extremely old now, don't you?"

Dean laughed, shaking little Ben awake. He looked up at Dean confused, before drifting back to sleep a second later. "Sure. I'll give him a call."

 

They somehow found a way to put the mattress in the living room for a little while, until Sam came to pick it up. When he'd had the call, Dean had almost hear the smile in his voice at the words 'y _ou can have it if you want, Cas said that the mattresses there sucked, capital S'_. Sam had promised to be there first thing next morning to pick it up.

They ended up pushing Cas's bed to the middle of the wall and squeezing the crib next to it for the time being. Dean didn't know what kind of sleeper Ben was, but if he was like he had hear that he was, the crib next to the bed may be a blessing in disguise.

Cas watched Dean give Ben a bath in the sink - they didn't want to risk bathing him in the bathtub without one of them in it and well, it would get awkward if Dean had taken a bath with Cas in the room - with a smile on his lips. Cas had wanted to watch so that he'd be sure that he wouldn't do anything wrong if he ever needed to give the tiny squirrel a bath when Dean was at work. This way, he could have a towel ready, a diaper, clothes, everything without getting soaking wet himself.

Ben didn't exactly mind the bath - he wasn't yelling his lungs out just yet - but he surely wasn't happy laying in there for too long either. By the time that he was on the towel and Dean was drying him off, he was staring up at Dean with wonder in his eyes.

"You're all set," Dean said with a smile on his lips as he lifted still half naked Ben up in his arms. "Let's just get you into your PJ's and you are ready for bed." Cas handed Dean the PJ's that he had picked out for the night. It had been the only pair that seemed wam enough for now and not too big on him. But that could have just been Cas's guess. All of the clothes looked the same, even though some where bigger as the others.

 

Even though Dean had wanted to put Ben in bed around seven o'clock, Ben was too stubborn. Each time they laid him down in his crib, he started screaming his lungs out. The little kid had more air in his lungs that Cas could ever muster up in his best moments. So, that was how he ended up sleeping in Cas's arms while watching television. The only reason that Dean had given him to Cas was so that he could get their food ready.

Cas could have made their food too, but well, if he could pick, he'd have Dean's food any second. Cas wasn't that bad of a cook, but Dean? Dean was amazing. He seemed to always be able to find the perfect combination of spices.

"You don't have the night shift any time soon right?" Cas asked as Dean came back into the living room with two steaming plates of mac and cheese. Cas hated it when Dean had to work nights, because they wouldn't see each other for a full two days. Now with Ben though, he wasn't alone. That didn't mean that he was comfortable with it though.

"I don't know," Dean said after swallowing a mouth full of food. "I should talk to my boss about that."

 

By the time that Cas had finished his food, he felt sleepy. The day had been too long for him, too eventful. Damn, he felt more tired than after a day at the office. They watched television for a little while before heading off to bed. Cas had already fallen asleep on the couch, Ben asleep on his chest.

Dean watched the two of them with a smile on his face. They looked adorable together. He noticed how Ben had Cas's cannula in his little fist while he slept and how Cas didn't even seem to mind anymore. Cas had his hand by Ben's feet, absently touching his little toes every once in a while.

Cas seemed to be so relaxed. The past couple of weeks he had been so wound up, so stressed from work that you could even notice it in the way that he walked. Now, he looked utterly relaxed, his guard was down. If there was one rare thing was Cas, it was his guard being down.

If there was one thing that he preferred to see over watching television, it was this. It made Dean dream about how it could be, about how things could possibly go if he and Cas ever became what was in their imagination or at least, his imagination. There would be so many more moments like that if Dean would ever be brave enough to press his lips to Cas's again.

After that night though, he wasn't sure. Back then, Cas had seemed to be as much into the kiss as drunken him at been, but then the day after, it was nothing like the peaceful calm that it had been after a while the night before. Cas had scared away from him. He had hid from him, he had felt incredibly uncomfortable. Dean got it, he had been uncomfortable too, even though he had been the one that was still sort of dressed.

"Cas," Dean whispered, slightly tugging his shoulder. "Cas, wake up, it's time for bed." Cas groaned before opening his eyes, blinking against the bright light.

"I'm up. I'm up."

"You can sleep on in a little while," Dean said, shaking his head. "I just need to get Ben off of your chest so he can sleep in his crib. I wouldn't have waked you if that hadn't been the case."

 

The operation of getting Ben in his crib was a very dangerous one, so to speak. Ben almost woke up at least three or four times, before he finally settled himself in his crib and slept on.

Sleeping next to Dean was weird to Cas, even though he knew that he'd done it quite a few times already. Dean had turned himself towards the crib, back facing Castiel. Now that Dean had woken him up and was asleep himself, he couldn't fall asleep, not anymore. Even though he had been tired before, all notion of sleep was gone.

 

He slipped out bed and sat behind the desk in the living room, a cup of steaming coffee next to him. It had been a while since he had sat down and written a letter to Dean. Ever since that first letter to Dean, he had added next ones, others. When starting work though, he barely had time to do that. The days had been too chaotic, he had been too tired.

 

 

 It was probably the most personal of his letters thus far. Before, he had always kept more to the surface. Today was the first day he could actually admit how he felt about what was going on with him and Dean. It didn’t mean that he was going to give in to the feelings soon, not if he could help it, but writing it out was needed.

That was when he heard a baby’s sharp cry coming from the bedroom. He heard Dean rumble around in the bedroom, before the sound of Ben crying came closer and closer.

“It’s time for his first bottle,” Dean muttered, still half asleep. Ben lay on his arm, yelling his lungs out. Dean was trying his hardest to make him suck on the pacifier, so that they could trick him into calming down for just a few seconds.

“I’ll make it for you. I’ll be right back.” The reason that Cas was set on making the formula was that he was the only one that was still awake enough to get the right amount of powder to the correct amount of water. He didn’t know how formula was supposed to taste, but when mixed wrong, he didn’t think that Ben would take it.

When the microwave beeped a little while after and he walked back into the living room, Dean was sitting behind the desk, reading the letter that he was never supposed to read, not when Cas was still around, when he still lived. Cas froze in the door. If he wouldn’t have such a tight grip on the bottle, it would have fallen to the floor and forced him to make it again. He couldn’t do anything but stare at Dean reading the words with a probably horrified expression in his eyes. It had been foolish of him to write the truth in that letter, to write that he loved Dean. It was stupid and idiotic.

“I made the formula,” he stammered, before putting the bottle on the desk and hurrying out of the room. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he was so stupid.

“Cas, hold up,” he heard Dean say in the background, but he tuned it all out. He couldn’t handle talking to Dean, not right now. Why had he been so stupid, why hadn’t just put the letter in the pocket of his shirt.

“You’re such an idiot Castiel Novak!” he cursed under his breath as he let himself sit down on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. “You are such a goddamn idiot.” He should better start writing the _how to mess up good_ handbook, because he did all of the things in it. “Do you really have to mess up everything that can possibly turn out good for you? Do you really have to fucking do that each time?”

 

When the door opened, he ignored it. He kept his head in his hands, looked at the light that filtered through the cracks of his fingers, but ignored Dean. He could only make things worse now. If he said something, things might get awfully awkward between the two of them. Even more awkward than this whole ordeal already was.

Dean didn’t take a seat next to him after walking in, which was a relief to Cas. The first thing he did was quickly change Ben’s diaper and put him back down in his crib. It was after all of that that he sat down next to him.

“Could you please look at me Cas?” His voice seemed to be gentle enough. He dared look for a few seconds, expecting to see him be angry or worse, but he wasn’t. “I’m not mad at you or anything Cas, I just need to talk to you about something that is in there. Something in the letter you wrote. Sorry if I shouldn’t have read it.”

“I think I know which sentence that you are talking about,” he muttered, looking up at him.

“You don’t, because it isn’t in just once sentence, it’s everywhere Cas.” He felt a hand under his chin, pulling his face up so that he looked Dean straight into his apple green eyes. “Are you really that low? Are you going through that much trouble? Is your grieve that bad?” it was clear that Dean was worried about him. “Do you really feel that sad that you want to think

“Sometimes,” he admitted, “most of the time.” Cas didn’t like admitting it to Dean, but he couldn’t lie now, not after what Dean had read.

“Well,” he said, sounding harsh, “you are not checking out early okay? Damn it Cas, it is not your time.

“If you feel like you can’t handle it, not anymore, we are getting you help, okay? Professional help.” Cas just nodded slightly, lost in thought. “About that one thing that I know you’re talking about,” Dean said, before inching his head closer and pressing his lips gently to his. “I think we can work with that.”

 


	17. Happy?

 

Castiel woke up with a familiar set of arms around his shoulders and his head resting on Dean's chest. Dean was still asleep, his chest going up and down in a rather calming motion. If only they'd be able to wake up like this every morning. Castiel would pay money for that. Last night had been unexpected to him. Not even in his wildest dreams had he thought that Dean would love him too, not even if he'd gotten signs of that. It had not been the way that he wanted Dean to find out, it hadn't at all, but now he knew and seemed to be returning the feelings, things were okay.

Cas looked up at Dean with a smile on his lips. He loved seeing the slight bit of light filter down through his lashes as he slept. All that time of hiding how he felt, and now he could just show it to Dean, he didn't have to hide anymore.

He really hoped that Dean wouldn't change his mind about this, that it wouldn't be just that little while. Castiel was unsure how he would cope if Dean suddenly would say that it wouldn't work out between the two of them after all.

At one point during the night, they had entangled themselves, legs intertwined. Dean’s stubble brushing against his head, Castiel's head tucked under Dean's chin. Castiel couldn’t say that he minded the smell of Dean’s aftershave or the way that his lips brushed his hair. He could stay there without moving forever if he was allowed that.

 

Judging from the calm breathing coming from the other side of the bed, baby Ben was still asleep in his crib. Castiel felt guilty for not waking up during the night, when Ben had needed a diaper change of was just being fussy. He had noticed the cries, but had been unable to pull himself from sleep long enough to actually attempt waking up. He’d been so tired when he’d gone to bed, both physically and mentally that he just couldn't.

He regretted that he had to get up, he preferred cuddling up with Dean until he had to go back to work in two days, but well, the sun was setting. That wasn’t the only thing though, he had plans. Dean was like a starved dog when he woke up, he’d eat anything that you’d put in front of him. Castiel was going to make him breakfast, or at least, have a go at making him food without burning it. What was better than waking up to the smell of pancakes anyway?

Sam had said that he’d arrive around nine or ten if traffic wasn’t too bad and that he’d stop by as soon as he arrived. Castiel had wanted to say that it wasn’t a problem if he’d rather sleep first, but he had been excited about something. There was no pushing the visit back, not even by an hour.

Making pancakes would be trying Castiel’s luck. Not that he was an awful cook or anything, but he had never made them from scrap. Before, especially at college, he had had a package of precooked pancakes that you just had to put in the microwave for a minute to get them steaming hot. Now, well, he didn't know how much of a mess the kitchen would be after.

Dean was worth the shot though.

 

While waiting for the batter to set - a tip that he had found in one of his cook books - he paced the kitchen, looking at the clock on the microwave every few seconds. Ten minutes into waiting, Ben started scurrying around in his crib, making faces into the darkness around him.

That was one of the reasons why the video monitor that Lisa had bought and kindly given them was a gift from God. He could easily spot when Ben was waking up, when he was close to crying. It allowed him to stay calm and content about Ben, but also well, keep an eye on Dean in the corner.

By the time that Cas tiptoed in the bedroom and lifted Ben up from his crib, the baby boy had been grunting and rubbing his little hands by the corners of his mouth. The poor boy had been hungry and in desperate need for a diaper change. Castiel wondered why he hadn't cried sooner. He had heard stories throughout his life about babies crying ever second for anything. Ben seemed to be so calm though.

"We are not going to wake up your daddy, is that okay?" he whispered with a smile on his lips after gently closing the bedroom door behind him, diaper bag slung over his shoulder, oxygen concentrator the other and Ben in his arms. "But, first things first, what do you think about a nice bath huh? I know that your daddy gave you one yesterday, but you smell like pee my friend."

 

Castiel allowed the sink to fill up with just enough water, before stripping Ben from his clothes and dipping him in. Ben was still sleepy, but certainly didn't complain as Cas washed his body with the right soap. It all was a little awkward, because Cas was not used to holding him in one position for that long, but he couldn't say that he minded.

No, quite the contrary. He enjoyed seeing Ben flutter in the water, seeing the tiny smile on his lips, seeing the boy relax. It was weird, how much he seemed to love the boy even though it wasn't his own kid. Maybe it was all the Dean that was in his features that made it so easy to fall in love with him.

Cas wrapped him up in a towel after putting a fresh diaper on him. Ben smelled like honey, freshly washed baby, he was happy and content. And that was all that Castiel required for now. He smiled down at the little boy, all wrapped up in the mint green frog towel.

"You're going to have to be real silent so I can pick your clothes, okay?" Ben just stared up at him, green eyes wide. Cas sighed, before slipping in the bedroom and quickly picking the first outfit that he found. He didn't want to wake Dean up just yet - it was barely nine 'o clock - so he had to be silent.

Ten minutes later, Ben was eating his formula eagerly. Even though this was pretty much day two of him being a parent, it wasn't completely foreign to him, not anymore. When he had been fourteen or fifteen, either of the two he had spend a little while babysitting a neighbours baby. Of course, the girl hadn't been that young, but still, he felt a little more confident about himself knowing the motions.

By the time that Ben had finished his bottle, the pancakes were about ready to be backed. Cas was anxious about baking them with Ben so near - he was hanging out in his swing close by, completely oblivious to whatever Cas was going - afraid that he might do something wrong.

God, he was just like a nervous father, even though he had no ties to this baby boy whatsoever.

He worked on the pancakes in silence, glancing back at Ben every once in a while just to check that the boy was still doing okay in his swing. Only once did he have to pick him up out of his swing because he really wanted to be held.

He was just finishing the last of the pancakes at least an hour, maybe an hour and a half later when he felt hands slide around his waist. Dean pulled him closer, pressing a kiss against his shoulder. Dean still looked sleepy, but adorable. He reached up to press a kiss to Dean's cheek.

"Hi," Cas said, smiling. "You're up."

"I smelled pancakes," Dean muttered, staring fixedly at the last baking pancake and the pile on the plate next to it.

"See Ben," Cas mused with a smile on his lips, "if you ever need to wake up your father, just bring him some food, it'll do wonders for his mood."

"Are these for me?" Dean croaked, a hopeful expression in his eyes. Castiel rolled his eyes, putting the plate with steaming pancakes on the kitchen table.

“Who else?” Castiel said, smiling at the look in Dean's eyes. “Attack.”

 

Dean ate those pancakes in record time. Even though had Cas had made more than he could ever finish, they were gone within minutes.

"I take back my cooking breakfast," Dean said, mouth still full, "I'll have you make pancakes every morning."

"Maybe if you'd stay in bed longer, you'd get them served to you," Cas joked. "You are the worst person to wake up, you know that? Sam texted that he'll he here around ten AM, so I figured that I'd wake you up before he arrived."

"Thanks," Dean said, a smile on his lips, before pulling Cas closer and pressing a kiss on his lips. "So we are good?"

"Yeah, we're good."

"I meant what I said yesterday Cas, if you really are that low and you feel like you can't handle things, not anymore, you have to tell me buddy. We'll get you some help. We'll find a way to make you feel better about yourself and get your emotions in check, okay?"

"Yeah Dean, I know." He didn't want to talk about it, not right now. There were things in that letter that Dean shouldn't have known now. "I'll tell you, okay? If I have a rough day."

"You scared the crap out of me last night by what was in there," Dean said, "I wished that you wouldn't have put your walls up and just told me, that would make me feel a little better about all of this."

"Can we talk about it later? I really don't feel like talking about it now, not with your brother coming here soon."

"Yeah," Dean muttered, "sure. Want me to take Ben while you get dressed? I don't mind you walking around half naked around here, but Sam don't need to see that." A blush crept up Cas's cheeks, which made Dean laugh. "And don't forget your oxygen. You're having a tough time, I can hear it in the way you talk."

 

Cas got dressed in a matter of minutes. His hair was too stubborn to even attempt laying flat, but at least the rest of him looked a little put together. About as good as it was going to get.

Dean had put Ben in his swing so that he could get dressed too. Being together in the bathroom now was different than how it had been before. Before, it had been almost natural too them, not it just felt awkward. He knew that it just was because they were only just dating, if they were even dating, but he really hoped that it would go away soon.

"Is something bothering you Cas? You look tense."

"I'm fine," Cas muttered, "it's just that I don't want things to get awkward between us Dean. I feel like it is getting awkward. I don't know what I'm up for." He shouldn't have said half of what he had said. "Just forget it, okay?"

"Give yourself some time to get used to it," Dean said, a slight smile on his lips. In the other room, Ben started screaming his lungs out. "That's my cue to go. Just, get used to it, okay? You know that I will not force you into anything that you feel uncomfortable with."

"I know," he muttered, cheeks flaring bright red. "I know."

"You're adorable." This time, it was Cas who pulled Dean down for a quick peck on the lips.

"Go before the neighbors start complaining."

 

Sam arrived at 10:50 AM, looking as if he had drank at least three litres of energy drink to keep awake. Judging from the look that he had, the slight stubble and his hair that had seemed to have grown even longer than before, college had been giving him a hard time. He gave Cas a quick hug, which made him feel tiny – Sam was a giant when compared to Cas, who was above average height - before heading into the apartment with a smile on his lips.

"Has Lisa been here yet?" he asked Cas, who had followed him inside. Dean was in the kitchen, preparing yet another bottle for Ben, who had gotten hungry yet again. Cas knew that new borns were hungry little things, but that didn't mean that he had known that they'd need to give him a bottle that often. Soon, they'd be forced to start stashing bottles if they wanted to keep up with the hungry little squirrel.

"Yes," he said, pointing to the kitchen. "Ben's in the kitchen with Dean, if the uncle wants to see his nephew?" Cas knew that the name uncle was making him feel old and that was exactly why he had used the name.

"Great!" Sam said, with a smile, before rushing off to the kitchen. "Where is my nephew?!"

 

By the time that Cas arrived in the kitchen, Sam was already stealing Ben from a smiling Dean, rocking him slightly in his arms.

"Hey there little man! I am your uncle, uncle Sam, but for you, it's just Sam, you got that?" Cas stood with Dean, leaning his back against the kitchen counter. Sam was all smiles now. "Uncle makes me feel too old. You look like your father, you know that? The hair, the eyes. But you've got your smiles from mommy Lisa. At least, that is what I think. Maybe you’ll have daddy’s dimples." Sam looked up at the two of them standing there, grinning. "What?"

"You sound like you are a ten year old with that voice," Dean pointed out. "How did you even know about Ben?"

"That's how you're supposed to talk to babies, Dean.” There was a teasing smile on Sam's lips. “I ran into Lisa on campus. She told me that she had to find you. So, I gave her Cas's address and she told me that it was because she had to drop this little peanut off at your place." He smiled a little. “I figured that I was okay.”

“It’s fine,” Dean said, “really. Don’t worry about it. I just would have liked a heads up first. Not from you, but Lisa, she just shows up here, says that Ben’s my kid. I hear that I should thank you.” Sam looked at Dean with surprise and confusion in his eyes.

“Huh?”

“Cas told me that you saved his ass from falling four floors down on his own account.” Cas could feel Dean’s gaze fall on him and the forced way that Dean had put it, as if he cared more about it than he showed.

“Oh,” he muttered, suddenly aware what Dean was talking about, “I should have told you right after. So he finally told you? That’s good.” There was a slight smile on his lips as he looked up at Cas. “You’re feeling better right now than back then, right? I don’t have to be too worried?”

“Dean has the worried part covered,” Cas shrugged, “but yes, I guess that I am going a little bit better, I’ve got my moments, but it is getting better, generally speaking at least.”

“You better be,” Dean grumbled, before pulling Cas closer. “I’m not letting you drift off like that again.” Sam grinned at the two of them, all smiles. Cas felt a blush creep up his cheeks. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’s shoulders protectively.

“Don’t you guys have something to tell me? Huh?” He looked up and down the two of them, eyebrows raised. Dean nodded slightly. “I just knew it!” The wide grin on Sam’s lips was almost comically.

“Dude. This is literally only a thing since today.”

“I knew it before you two,” Sam laughed, “that’s even better. You two have been flirting with each other for months now. You really are blind aren't you?" He bit back another laugh. "I guess you have two daddies and a mommy now huh, little champ. You be good for these two."

"Really?" Cas sighed, "You and Charlie." He was getting fed up with everybody 'knowing' before they even acted on their feelings.

"Charlie?" Dean asked confused.

"Yeah, I saw her in the hall yesterday when I was coming down to see if you had the car seat installed yet. She literally said that she didn't know the two of us were adopting. She thinks that Ben is an adorable little thing. I can't blame her for that, he is adorable. He takes after his father." Cas liked seeing the blush creep up Dean's cheeks. "Why don't you guys just start the I knew it before these two club huh?"

Ben started fussing in Sam's arms, opening and closing his little lips with a disturbed expression in his face. Just a few seconds now, and he'd be screaming bloody murder.

"Let's give this little squirrel his bottle before he starts screaming," Dean said, stretching his hands out towards Ben. “Come here Ben-o.” Ben sucked eagerly on the bottle, ready for the formula. He finished the bottle in record time, before smiling up at his daddy.

 

Cas would never get rid of the amazement that flooded him when he saw Ben eat, or do anything really. He could stare at that perfect little boy with Dean’s eyes forever, if he didn’t have other things to do. It was weird because after all, Ben wasn’t even his own. It wasn’t his son and yet he felt responsibility towards the boy. Maybe not the same way that Dean did, but still. He felt the need to protect him.

That was when it hit him though. Looking at Ben and the smile on his lips, he thought about how Claire would have loved him, how she would have adored every inch of him. If Claire had been there, they’d never get Ben back, she’d take strolls around the neighbourhood with him until they’d have to pry him from her hands.

“I, I’m going to, I’m going to go.” He took a struggled breath, tears burning in the backs of his eyes. “I’m going to take Ben for a walk, okay? You two catch up a little.” He couldn’t not see the worry in Dean’s eyes as he nodded and passed him Ben.

 

Ben slept in his stroller while Cas pushed him out of the city centre, heading for the little playground. After school hours, the playground next to the elementary school was barely used. Sometimes, a kid would sit there and swing for a little while, but they never stayed long.

Cas couldn’t blame them. The playground wasn't anything that he'd let a kid of his play on. Under the swings was bare concrete, the other things were surrounded by yellow grass. You'd think that a school would pay attention to stuff like that, but they couldn't care any less.

"You know Ben?" he said, sitting down on one of the hardwood benches. "My sister would have adored you." He smiled against the tears in his eyes, it couldn't stop them from falling down though. "She was a loser for babies. If she'd see a baby with parents she knew, she'd always stop by to say hi. I like to think that she would have been a good mother." He bit his lip. "You weren't even born yet when she passed away. She never got a chance to, you know, have herself a good boyfriend and get pregnant. Have a little baby of herself, but I know that she would have loved that." Ben just looked up at him, confused. The boy didn't understand a thing that he was saying. "I know that she'd look at your pretty little face and be proud. You know, full on proud. I know that I am." He let his hand slide across the boy’s face, until a tear landed on his fingers. “I’m getting you soaked with my tears buddy. You know your father’s boyfriend – or at least I think that I am that right now – is a little bit of a mess. But I’ll pull myself together, okay? I just, I need some time for myself to get better. I swear that I’ll take good care of your father and you when you grow up but, you’ll have to deal with a wreck for a little while. I hope that it is okay.”

Cas took his cell phone out of his pocket when he received a text. _You okay? Me and Sammy are going for breakfast, you care to join us? – D_

_I’m going to the cemetery with Ben, sorry. I need to go say hi to Claire, introduce her to Ben. Would have loved to though. –C_ He didn’t say whether he was fine on purpose. Dean would notice that he wasn’t exactly okay soon enough. Cas just didn’t want to think about it, he didn’t want to talk about how much of a wreck he was right now either.

_That’s okay. Text me when you want me to pick you up. If you haven’t texted when we are done eating, I’ll come keep you company while Sammy picks up some stuff for his dorm room. You okay?_ Cas ignored Dean’s text. He wasn’t okay, not by far, but he didn’t want to tell Dean either. He didn’t want to lie to Dean and say that he was fine either. He dangled somewhere in the middle of the two.

 

The cemetery was silent and calm. In the area where Claire had been buried, a few people were walking around or standing by a grave, but that was it. Cas loved the calm, the silence. The oxygen concentrator was stashed in the little compartment underneath the stroller, his cannula somewhere down there too. He didn't want the extra air, needed the pain that his burning lungs provided to keep himself and his thoughts from drifting too far off.

“Hi Claire,” he said, a tiny smile on his lips. “This is Ben. He’s Dean’s kid. Me and Dean, we, we’re together now. You’d be ecstatic about that I’ sure, it’s still new and fresh.” He bit his bottom lip. “You know, I never would have told him? He just found the letter and read at. He, well, he took it okay. I told him, about how I feel like if he wasn’t there, that you know, I’d be dead. I know that you don’t want to hear that Claire Bear, but it’s the truth. I have been thinking about flinging myself off that cliff that I am on for so long.” Tears burned in his eyes again, but he bit them back. He wasn't pathetic, he wouldn't cry. “You now, I am a little happier here, in this place. Now that Dean has Ben, things are starting to look up a little. I can look at Dean holding Ben and think that I wouldn’t want to leave the world for this, that I want to stay.”

Cas cut his words short when he heard somebody walk around close. The stones grinding underneath that person’s feet. For some reason, he didn’t want his words to be overheard, almost afraid that people wouldn’t react well to somebody talking to a tombstone. He kept his eyes fixed on the gold lettering on the stone. Her name seemed to be so wrong on there, the date too soon. All around him were people that had lived for at least fifty years before they passed on. Claire hadn't even been able to finish her seventeenth year on this earth.

Ben fussed in his stroller, not okay with standing there for as long as they had already done. He wanted out. Cas couldn't say that he understood, but the baby made the rules. A slight, troubled smile lay on his lips as he pulled Ben in his arms, allowing his head to rest against his shoulder. “I know baby, I know, we’ll be out of here in a little while, I just need to talk to your auntie for a little, okay?”

He found himself absent-mindedly stroking Ben’s back while talking to Claire. Telling her about the nightmares, about losing her. Everything spilled out of him. After a short silence, in which tears had started flowing down his cheeks again, he heard the footsteps again. He didn't even look around to see who it was. If it was his mother or his father, he would be screwed, but well, he wouldn't be able to run anymore anyway.

As the tears still streamed, he noticed how limited his breathing had become, how bad the burning had become. There were dark spots dancing in front of his vision. He wouldn't have minded if he had been alone, if he wasn't holding Ben in his arms. There was no way that he'd go with fainting now, not when there was a risk that Ben could fall and get hurt because of Castiel.

"I'm sorry Ben," he murmured, before putting him in his stroller again. He held on to the handles tight, as if his life depended on it. If he held on for much longer, he might pass out. "But, your daddy’s boyfriend needs a minute okay?" He tried to take deep breaths, but failed miserably.

By the time that the dark spots were getting too much, he felt familiar arms wrap around his waist, a familiar set of lips pressing a kiss against his shoulder. Almost automatically, he leaned back into the embrace, smelling the all too familiar Impala smell on Dean’s clothes.

"Hi," came the soft voice of Dean from behind him. He hadn't noticed in just how much trouble Cas was. "You okay? You aren't answering my texts." Cas felt his legs get wobbly. It felt like the world was spinning around him. He spun around, lacing his arms around Dean's neck.

"I will be." Dean took in his answer, before wiping away a tear from his cheek.

“Are you sure?” he muttered, taking in how laboured his breaths were becoming. He carefully restarted the oxygen concentrator and laced the cannula behind his ear, tucking it in his nose. The gesture was affectionate, gentle. “I know that it gets bad, but don’t hurt yourself, okay?” There was a tiny smile on his lips. “We need you here.”

“Yeah.” Cas muttered, fiddling with the cannula tubing. “Sure.” His lungs slowly relaxed the hold they had on his breathing. Dean let go of him, turning to the stroller with a smile on his lips. Ben was fussing, wanting out of the stroller again, wanting to be held. Castiel would pick him up, but he didn't trust his arms, not the slightest.

It was with a smile on his lips that Dean lifted Ben in his arms and held him close to his chest.

 

Sam left after the weekend. He stayed until Sunday, after which he really had to get back to college. Castiel understood, the workload placed upon the shoulders of the law students at Stanford really was a lot, but Sam was a genius, he'd get there if he worked. Hell, if even Castiel managed to get through college there, anyone could.

Working and taking care for Ben was harder than he thought that it would be. Dean did most of it during the days and Cas took over a few night shifts, but still, it was hard work, keeping Ben happy and them rested. Not that Castiel minded. He loved coming home at six PM and snuggling up with Ben, falling asleep on the couch, Ben resting on his chest.

It was both stressful and relaxing at the same time, that was until John Winchester called and told Dean that he had job for him. That he'd have to go out on a hunt. Castiel knew that their calm had only been for that little while. He'd never get the hunter out of Dean and quite frankly, he didn't want to either. Dean had grown up with the notions of being a hunter when he grew up, he'd shot a gun before learning that a 2 \+ b2 equals c2.

And, quite frankly, Castiel was cool with him being a hunter. Of course, that meant that he had to miss Dean for weeks at a time, but it too meant that Dean was happy killing things, it meant that he had stuff to do.

“What are you going to tell work?” Castiel asked holding a fussy Ben in his arms. It was two AM, but nothing could get the little squirrel to go back to sleep. The second they stopped rocking him or walking around, he screamed bloody murder. “Just in case I run into anyone. Don't want to blow your cover.”

“Already called,” Dean said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. They had both been up since one AM, when he had started screaming. Castiel hadn't even thought about sleep that night. He had been tossing and turning for hours. “Said that dad is sick and I need to go out there for a little while, until he's better. Said to come back whenever he was better.”

“Oh come on Ben,” Cas groaned, rubbing the kid's back, walking around on the spot. “Sleep.” He returned his attention to Dean. “Okay, when will you leave?”

“Tomorrow,” Dean muttered before stretching out his arms and taking Ben in them, exhaustion clear in his eyes. At least Dean had had some sleep. “First thing. Dad said that it was urgent.”

Castiel allowed himself to fall down in the sofa, taking the warm spot where Dean had just said, curling up in the blanket. The air was getting colder, the crisp feeling of crappy winter temperatures already clinging to the air. Just a little while longer and the temperatures would start to dip low enough for there to be snow, even though it was only October.

“What about Ben? You're taking the Impala right?” Considering that Dean wouldn't take Ben with him, he'd need his own car with the car seat in the back. He knew that it was a silly question to ask, considering that Dean probably wouldn't like being found dead in his car.

“Yeah,” Dean said, yawning, “but I can't take Ben. He'd Ben in danger.”

“I know,” Castiel said, “I'll work from home this week, I can probably arrange that.” Castiel was exhausted from taking the night shift with Ben the other night, but knew that the other man needed his sleep more if he was going to hit the road first thing in the morning. “Why don't you give me Ben? Go sleep.”

He could see from the look on his face that he wanted to object, but didn't. “Okay. Thanks.” Dean pressed a quick goodnight kiss to Castiel's lips, before heading for bed. Castiel spend another hour walking around with Ben until the muscles in his legs hurt.

“Okay little squirrel,” Castiel said, yawning. “This is the deal. Your daddy has to leave for work and I need to go to work to tomorrow, so how about you go ahead and sleep huh?” Ben stared up at him with wide eyes, watering. He too was tired, but fighting it. “ _Hey jude, don't make it bad_ ,” he sang softly, stroking Ben's little back. “ _Take a sad song and make it better. Remember, to let her into you heart. Then you can start to make it better._ ” Ben relaxed in his arms. _“hey Jude, don't be afraid. You were made to go out and get her. The minute you let her under your skin, then you begin to make it better._ ” There was a smile that lay on his lips as he sang, memories flooding him.

These were all memories that he was fond of. Singing Claire to sleep, seeing her smile, spending time with her even. The memories no longer made tears come to his eyes.

It was with a jolt that the thought sprung on him. Yesterday had the first day been in all that time that he hadn't thought about her. That he hadn't shed a tear, that he had been,  _happy._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Croatoan in upon us everybody.
> 
> Just thought I'd remind you that if you'd have anything to tell me, my [Tumblr](bluetie-greeneyes.tumblr.com) is always open for you. Getting some feedback on the story would be lovely and mean the world to me. A [trailer ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3MiRLj3mXvk) for this story is available on youtube and if you'd like to see the cover art, head over to my [livejournal](youaregonecas.livejournal.com). I'm both posting it on AO3 and livejournal.


	18. Alone

_It's hard to keep the rainclouds out_   
_When the windows never close_   
_The house feels like a graveyard now_   
_Like the floorboards hide the bones_   
**Radical Face – All is well (Goodbye Goodbye)**

 

Dean woke up the follow morning, earlier than he usually did. Castiel had still been asleep on the couch, Ben cradled in his arms. The two of them slept peacefully and Dean well, Dean could stare at his boyfriend and son for ages without ever getting bored of it. He didn't even know when this had started to change.

          He couldn't pin point the moment that he had realized how lucky he had been. There had been such a big chance that they'd been thrown out of the house if it hadn't been for Cas. Hell, Cas spend more time with Ben when the kid was fussy then Dean could have ever thought.

          “Hi,” he said with a smile on his lips, stroking a strand of hair that had gotten into Castiel's mouth out of the way. “Crawl into bed, I'll take care of him for a little while.” Cas wasn't awake just yet, blinking up at him with a confused expression on his face at the light filtering in through the window, as if he hadn't planned on sleeping on the couch.

          “You have got to pack,” Castiel muttered, voice hoarse from sleeping. Dean noticed how Ben's hand was curled around the cannula, as if he had reached for it in his sleep. It made Dean crack a little smile. “It's not a problem. He's fine right here.”

          “I'm packed,” Dean said, forcing Castiel to scoot over a little so that he could sit next to him. “Did all off that yesterday. Couldn't fall asleep right away anyway. I'm just waiting until ten or something to leave, it's not that long of a drive.” And I don't want to leave, so I'm putting it off he added in thoughts, not voicing out the words.

          “What happened to leaving first thing?” Castiel said, smiling as he settled himself against Dean's chest. Dean felt nice and warm, whilst Castiel was freezing. He hadn't wanted to crack out a blanket, afraid that it would do something to Ben, but he had been cold.

          “I got sidetracked,” Dean said with a smile, running his hand through Castiel's hair absent-minded. “You're freezing.”

          “I'm not that cold,” he shrugged, a slight smile on his lips while he stared down at the baby in his hands, stroking his hands over Ben's back. “And this little guy has his extra warm PJ's on so I think we're set.” Dean reached back, grabbing a blanket from the other couch and draping it around the three of them.

          “Now we're set,” Dean smiled, “now we're all warm too. Want me to grab you a cup of coffee?”

          “I'll grab one later,” Castiel muttered, not wanting Dean to leave the couch just yet. He didn't know when Dean would be back from his little hunting trip with his father and didn't want to waste any time that the three of them had. “I don't want to wake up just yet.”

          “Okay,” Dean said with a smile, getting the hint. There lay yet another smile on Dean's lips – it really was getting out of hand how often he seemed to smile and or laugh the past couple of days – as he lifted Ben from Castiel's chest and lay him gently in his swing. Ben didn't even wake up long enough to care about it. Just looked up confused and went right back to sleep. If he had been put in his crib, he probably wouldn't even have woken up.

          Dean laced his hands through Castiel's, pulling him closer to him. He loved how easy it was getting these days to get Castiel to relax, while he usually had been so uptight. He loved how there was a smile on his lips more often now, how he was slowly getting though the loss of his sister. Dean knew that it was just the loss of his sister, that there were other things that were bothering him too. Cas just wasn't ready to talk about the things yet, and Dean got that.

          “I'm leaving in a little over an hour,” Dean muttered, absently playing with Cas's fingers, “but damn, this is the least excited I have been for a hunt in ages.”

          “I would say that you don't have to go,” Castiel muttered, sitting up again, “but I know that your father doesn't fool around and if he needs you, you should go.”

          “Yeah,” Dean muttered, “he already can't count on Sam, so I'll have to be his son he can count on.” He shook his head. “Sorry about that though. Are you and Ben going to be okay on your own?”

          “We'll do fine,” Castiel promised, turning around so that he could press a kiss on Dean's lips, resting against his chest. Dean kissed him back, his lips filled with hunger. A smile laced Castiel's lips as he repositioned his body on the couch, so that he had better access to Dean's body, his lips.

          This was the last little push that Dean needed, before pulling Castiel closer to him, before pulling him on his lap and kissing him with a new heat and urgency in his lips. Dean's hands played with the hem of his shirt, pushing it up slightly to roam his hands across Castiel's sides, to slide his fingers across Cas's freezing, bare skin. Castiel had to bite back a smile as he let his lips kiss Dean's jaw, the slight stubble rough against his lips. He let his lips slide down lower, down to his neck, shoulders. He loved how he felt Dean's body react to his touches. How it tensed up.

          Dean tugged on the fabric of his shirt, both of them breathing fast and shallow. His hands slipped under Dean's shirt, fingers sliding over his stomach, muscular but just that little bit pudgy. He laughed as Dean did the same, trying to get his shirt over his head, but got tangled up in his oxygen cannula. Laughing, Castiel untangled it from the cannula. He saw Dean's eyes widen ever so slightly.

          “Why don't we finish this when you get back huh?” Castiel teased after pressing a kiss to Dean's collarbone when Ben started screaming his lungs out in his swing. “Give you something to look forward to.”

 

Dean left a half an hour later after kissing Castiel goodbye and giving Ben one last big hug. It was different leaving this time, the road less appealing as it had been before. It wasn't that he was scared, no, he knew that Castiel and Ben could damn well fend for themselves, he was just, anxious. He didn't want to leave Ben with Castiel that long without help, knowing that he'd be sleep deprived and working.

          He deep down wished that he had said no to his father, even though he knew that he'd never risk it. Not with Sammy already letting him down. It had been too long since he had been on a real hunt anyway. He missed the hunting lifestyle that he had exchanged for life with Cas, or at least, for that little while with Cas.

          If he was honest, Dean Winchester had never had any intention of staying as long as he had with the boy. He had thought that I'd be a few weeks and that he'd move on. Never had he thought that he'd actually fall in love like a teenager. Never had he imagined Ben coming along. He didn't even know if he could separate his life from the two of them anymore, it all had become too much of a tangled up mess.

          His cell phone beeped in his pocket, letting him know that he had a text message. He pulled over on the side of the road to see who it was, smiling when he saw Cas's name pop up on the display.

_We already miss you -C_ Accompanying it was a picture of Ben resting on Castiel's legs, sucking on his little pacifier, looking up at the camera curiously. His own green eyes were reflected in the baby. He was dressed in his I love my daddy PJ's that Castiel had bought for him when he'd gone out for a jiffy to get something.

_I miss you guys too -D_ It was the truth. He already missed the little squirrel and Castiel. Just a week, that was all it was going to take. Not a day more. Him and his father would wrap up this case as fast as they could and then Dean would be back within the day.

 

Castiel juggled work and Ben with remarkable ease, or well, at least that day. Things weren't easy, not at all, but they weren't difficult either. Ben slept as he made a phone call to a few of his clients, as he informed everybody that he'd be working from his apartment mainly that week, to call in advance to set up a meeting place to talk about their case. It was stressful though, knowing that he could be thorn away from Ben any second because there was a client or his boss that wanted him on the phone.

          He was glad when six PM rolled around and he shouldn't expect any other calls any time soon. Ben was sleeping in his swing after finishing his bottle of formula and Castiel was barely staying awake, even with a cup of coffee next to him.

          Ben is knocked out. I'm going to put him to bed and then sleep myself. Sleep tight x. -C. He smiled as he turned off his phone, putting it on the bedside table. Castiel crawled in bed, before lifting Ben from his crib and laying him down next to him. He hated sleeping completely alone after spending almost two months always sleeping with somebody there, he hated it now that he knew how Dean's body felt next to him.

          “Good night Ben,” he whispered, before closing his eyes, ready for the roughest night thus far.

 

Dean reached the motel where is father was staying before sundown, knocking on the door of his room after depositing his stuff in his own room. Damn, he wanted nothing but to be home and cuddle up with Castiel and Ben in bed, even though he knew he couldn't. He had signed in for a room a few rooms down from his father's, knowing that he wouldn't want to share a room with John Winchester. He'd be up before the sun was and quite frankly, Dean would use this opportunity to catch up on a little bit of sleep.

          “Dean,” John nodded, allowing him inside. There wasn't exactly a smile on John's face, but knew that this would be as close as his father would get to smiling.

          “I just came by to say that I have arrived,” Dean yawned, “I've been driving all day, so I'm going to get some shut eye first, okay?”

          “Sure son,” John said, yawning himself. “See ya tomorrow.”

 

Castiel saw the hours tick by on the clock as Ben had a crying fit or needed something every few minutes. The longest stretch of sleep that he had gotten was from four until five, when he had to get up to go to work anyway. Castiel didn't know if he'd stay alive the whole day, hell, he could barely keep his eyes open now.

          Usually, it was calm out around six AM. The road was abandoned, there were a few people up and running, but that was all. Now that he was already late to work with Ben in the back seat, there was traffic. Not that it held him back that much, but it was enough to make him feel annoyed.

          He hoped with all he had that his boss wouldn't mind that he brought Ben with him. Castiel had explained the matter to his boss and he had said that it was fine, but still, his other co-workers might take offense or complain about it. He knew that he too would have minded before Ben came along and he got used to the cries and whimpers, but Ben was such a good behaving, always sleeping boy that he would probably not cry at all during the whole day anyway. At least, that was what he hoped.

          He was thankful for the large space for stuff at the bottom of the stroller. Castiel had been unsure what to pack for Ben, considering they'd be at the firm for a solid twelve hours if he managed to get on with his work and be done at a decent hour. Eventually, he had settles on just taking a second bag that he kept stashed somewhere and filling it with bottles, diapers, changes of clothes, everything that he'd probably need. If he wouldn't have been able to store one of the diaper bags under there while he hung his oxygen concentrator and the other diaper bag on the handles of the stroller, he'd have to carry it all on his shoulders. The very thought gave him a terrible back pain.

           _How is the little squirrel and his daddy doing? Did he sleep better tonight? -D_ Reading the words made a smile appear on Castiel's lips. He shook his head before typing out his reply.

_The little squirrel is fine, daddy exhausted. Wouldn't sleep last night, at all. He's out like a light. About to start working. How's my hunter doing? -C_

_I'm fine, me and dad are about to question a subject. Take a nap later, or I will call Charlie to check up on you, 'kay? -D_

          Castiel smiled as he lay his telephone next to Ben in the stroller before pushing it through the doors of the law firm. The warm air hit him the second that he entered the building. It was one of the reasons why he loved coming in at an early time. Especially at six AM, it was cold out. The warmth that the building provided felt about a dozen times better when he'd been freezing only mere seconds before. Even though it was only October going on November, the air around them had become cold and that wasn't just at night.

          “Good morning Jen,” he said with a smile after entering their office. He and Jen had been college buddies – she had been one of the few friends that he had actually made that never let him down or that he never abandoned – so getting a job together had been a relief to both of them. Or at least, that was what Castiel thought. He knew that it was a relief to at least know one person in the room as opposed to nobody.

          “Morning,” she nodded, looking up sleepily from her cup of coffee. “Who's mister adorable?”

          Castiel was kind of conflicted on what to say, unsure of how Dean wanted Ben to be introduced. Now he and Dean were together, they were both his father, in a sort of way. He just wasn't sure if Dean liked if he put it that way. He'd have to ask him when he got back.

          “He's Dean's kid,” Castiel said with a smile, leaning over the stroller to brush away the blanket. “Dean's away to take care of his father, so I get to take care of the little squirrel for a week.” Ben woke up for a little while, looking up at him from his spot in the stroller, faced by the new surroundings. He lifted Ben up in his arms, to let him have a look around in the office. He had been starting to get fussy anyway and knowing Ben, that meant that he wanted or needed to be held for a little while.

          “As in your room mate Dean?” Her eyebrows shot up in question.

          “As in, my _boyfriend_ Dean,” he said, grinning at her expression of excitement. “It's still a new thing, trust me.”

          “I knew it,” she grinned. “The way you speak about him was what tipped me off.” Castiel rolled his eyes, before sitting down, pulling the stroller closer to him. Ben was still resting in his arms, his eyes now fixed at Jen, who had come closer to take a look at him. He even dared to smile at her

          “Yeah well, join the club,” he sighed. “He's probably going to be here a few times this week while Dean takes care of his father, hope that's okay. The boss was okay with it, but I mean, you'll have to be okay with it too.” He looked up at her, hopeful.

          “As long as he doesn't cry when I'm on the phone, it's fine,” Jen said, opening one of the folders with a sigh after returning to her desk. “Let's get to work, shall we?”

 

Before lunch break, Castiel only had to take three or four stops to change diapers or walk around because Ben was being fussy. By the time that he got home, he'd had quite a calm day. There were a few calls to be made and a case to work on, but otherwise, it had been a good day at the office.

          Castiel was almost surprised that things had gone surprisingly well. He had expected screaming and misbehaving. It was pleasant though, knowing that Ben was such a good baby. It reassured him that in case Dean couldn't watch him in the near future, he could take him to the office.

_We made it home okay. Ben has been a prefect little squirrel today. How was your day? -C_ He send the text with a smile on his lips before starting dinner for himself. There still was some spaghetti from the night before in the fridge, so he didn't really need to cook, but wanted the distraction that it offered.

_Long. We're about to go and grab dinner before heading back to the motel. Can I see a pic? -D_ Castiel could almost sense the smile on Dean's lips through the text message.

_Jen took this at the office an hour or something ago, he typed, will that suffice? I'm cooking dinner as we speak_. He added the picture of him feeding Ben his bottle with a smile on his lips and send it.

 

Dean smiled like an idiot when he got the picture that Castiel send him. It was weird to see him like that, without a guard, but that didn't mean that he didn't like it. He finished his fry, shaking his head before sending him a text back, saying something probably too cheesy, but hey, he could call later. No, he would call later, when his father wasn't sitting in front of him. He needed an update on the boy anyway.

          “What are you grinning about boy?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

          “It's nothing,” he shrugged, before saving the picture to his phone, like he had done with all the others, and browsing through them. “Dad.” His cell phone was snatched from his hands, a curious John Winchester looking at the picture he'd been looking at mere seconds ago. It had been the first picture that Castiel had taken of Dean and Ben and well, it was one of the only ones that he felt kind of proud of. Ben was sleeping in his arms, Dean also asleep. Dean had one of his arms stretched out for Cas when he'd crawl into bed too. Dean didn't even remotely remember when Cas had taken the picture, but knew that it wasn't that long ago.

          “Boy,” John said, looking from the phone to Dean and back again, “how about meeting the girlfriend, before finding out about a grandson?”

          “Sorry 'bout that dad,” he said nervously, playing with his bottle of beer, “I only found out about him a week or so ago. When his mother dropped him off.”

          “So you're not together?” He seemed to be almost surprised at this answer.

          “No sir.” John handed him back his cell phone, which Dean took gingerly. He had kind of hoped that his father had browsed through the photo's, that he wouldn't have to be the one to tell his father that he and Cas were a couple now. That it wasn't a girlfriend, but a boyfriend that he should be worried about, that this would be, let's face it, his only grandson that he'd get from Dean.

          “I want to see the kid when this is over,” John said.

          “Sure thing,” Dean agreed. He did want Ben to have his grandfather, even if John would barely be around.

_Next week, he's your kid. - C_ He could almost hear the annoyance in Cas's text. He was about to text back when he got the second text. _This is today's second diaper blow out. I've given the kid more baths in the past week than I have taken myself. I miss you._

_I miss you too angel,_ Dean typed, _next week's diapers are on me, promise._

 

Castiel let the bath fill up before sliding in himself. His hands were still wrinkled from the bath that he'd just given Ben, but he needed to both warm up and get that awful smell of off him. Ben sat in the swing that he had pulled in the bathroom with him, staring up at Castiel, eyes wide open.

          “What is it little one?” he asked with a gentle smile on his lips. “You are starting to be more awake, aren't you? Well, you aren't getting in the tub with me if that is what you are getting at little squirrel, you have had more than enough baths for the day. Week even.”

          The bath was exactly what he needed after the day. Damn, if he wasn't cautious, he might even fall asleep in it. Castiel hoped that his pay check would soon come in and he'd be able to put some money aside. Maybe, they'd be able to get themselves an apartment that actually had a decent heating.

 

Castiel barely managed to get through the four three days and the reasons for that weren't even remotely connected to Ben. No, if anything Ben had been a little angel. He'd slept during the night and been awake during the day, crying only when he needed something or wanted to be picked up. He didn't know what the crying fit of the past days had been about, but in his research, Castiel had found that it was probably Ben growing. He had been wanting a bottle more frequent too.

          But the past week had been rather difficult emotionally too. He couldn't just isolate himself anymore, not with Ben around and Cas having to look out for him, but he needed it. Hell, he needed to sit in the bathroom and smoke and well, cry. He'd done plenty of the latter at night, with Ben in his crib sleeping. He'd curled up in a ball more time than he could remember, trying to close the gaping hole in his chest. After a while, he didn't even remember why he was crying.

          He was about to crawl into bed that night, his oxygen concentrator already positioned next to him, ever so content with it being Saturday night. He'd be able to sleep in and Dean would be home soon. There was nothing that could make him any happier.

          That was until his phone started ringing loudly, scaring Ben awake and making him mutter a dozen words under his breath that should never reach Ben's ears. Clearly annoyed at the strange number on the display, he picked up Ben from his crib rocking him in his arms before answering.

          “Yes?” The words probably should have been a little less snappy, but hey, sometimes you reached your limit. For Castiel, that moment had just arrived.

          “Mr. Novak?” an equally annoyed voice returned from the other end of the line. “We're sorry to bother you on this late hour. I am officer Jenkins from the Aurora police office.” Castiel waited impatiently for the woman to continue speaking. “We have two subjects in custody, a certain John Smith and Matthew Blake. They have requested you as their attorney.”

          Castiel sighed under his breath, Ben's furious cries giving him a headache. “Okay.” He glanced over at the clock, biting back a groan at the late hour. Aurora, Colorado was an almost eight hour drive. If he wanted to be there by noon, he'd have to leave at eight AM. “I will be there tomorrow around noon, officer Jenkins. Could you please tell me clients that?” And to behave he wanted to add, but bit his tongue. He wasn't even sure if the officer Jenkins understood him or not above Ben's crying. “I will be there tomorrow.” He ended the conversation, throwing the phone to the bed.

          “Come on Ben,” he muttered before getting up and rocking him gently, “it's okay baby. It's okay.” He debated on calling Sam and seeing if he could possibly look after Ben for a day while he drove over to Aurora, Colorado, but changed his mind. Sam had schoolwork to do and anyway, he wouldn't have time to drop him off at the campus anyway.

          It took a half an hour before Ben fell asleep next to Cas in bed. Castiel would have a maximum of three hours of sleep, considering that he'd have to get up at six to get the both of them ready and the car packed. And man, he was exhausted. Even though he'd managed to catch up on some of the sleep that he had lost over the past couple of days, it didn't mean that he didn't need a long, long vacation. But of course, he'd have to work Sundays too now.

 

The follow morning came around too quickly. Castiel allowed Ben to sleep in while he made two liters of coffee, poured it in a thermos for the road and ate breakfast. The calm was comforting, the silence about right in the morning haze. Castiel was nowhere near awake, his eyelids still drooped, yawns escaping him every so many seconds.

          He had another hour and a half before he'd leave, but that didn't mean that he could take it easy. Ben would be awake and wanting a bottle sooner rather than later, he had to pack a diaper bag and try to figure out how many diapers and changes of clothes that he'd have to pack.

          He settled with the world wide web as a guide to packing his bag, taking everything out that was in - including the dirty shirt that he'd forgotten to take out of it the other day - and replacing it with what the web provided. Five complete outfits, down to socks, three hats, every bottle that they owned filled up with the right amount of water, pacifiers, PJ's and plenty of them because they could be used as everyday wear too, everything that they had pretty much. Castiel almost wondered how the diaper bag didn't tear, it was filled to the brim and heavy. Damn heavy.

          He put on the carrier that Lisa had left them and slipped Ben in it before going downstairs to fill up the car. He couldn't leave Ben alone and there was nobody else to watch him, so he'd be there for all of it. Castiel wasn't going to even pretend that the carrier was comfortable, but well, Ben fell back asleep the second that he was in it, so he didn't mind either. First the diaper bag in the passenger seat, nice and buckled in, then the stroller in the trunk, his own duffel bag accompanying it. He'd packed a box with two boxes of formula, a pack of diapers, wipes, burp rags and a few bags to put the dirty clothes in. The travel crib crammed in there too, just in case.

 

The car ride was an adventure. He'd put on a CD with calming and soothing songs, he didn't drive too fast either. He stopped at diners two or three time to change Ben's diaper and another time to feed him a bottle that they'd kindly allow him to warm. In all of this, he made a mental note to never go on a road trip like this unprepared and with such a short notice.

          When he arrived on the parking lot of the police station, he pulled his suit jacket on over his shirt, fixed his tie and quickly checked for any spit up or drool spots on his clothing. Luckily, he was clean so far. Ben was passed out in the back, but he couldn't leave him, so he took out the stroller with a sigh and wheeled him in. He knew that it must have looked almost comically to officer Jenkins as he walked in through the doors, baby, oxygen concentrator and a suit.

          "Yes?" she asked, confused almost.

          "Hello," he said, warm smile on his lips, "I am Castiel Novak? I am here to see my two clients, Mr. Smith and Mr. Blake, as I promised last night." Her eyes took him in curiously. "I am very sorry about bringing him in with me, I couldn't find a last minute babysitter. I guarantee you that he won't give you any troubles. He can come with as I speak with my clients." He nodded at her. "The only thing that I might require is that I can warm a bottle when he is hungry."

          "Of course," she nodded, clearing a path for the two of them. "I will let you speak to them in a second. Mr. Blake is already waiting for you." He followed her, going inside of the interviewing room with his back towards his client, so that Ben wouldn't wake up.

          "I excuse myself for," Castiel started, but stopped abruptly when a pair of apple green eyes stared into his.


	19. November

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: there is slight smut near the end, but it should be easy to spot if you want to read over it.

_But when I go inside,_   
_When I am alone,_   
_There is something broken._   
_And I fall into a sadness so sweet_   
_That it engulfs me._   
**AJ Sanders**

 

Castiel had to suppress a laugh when he saw Dean sitting on the other side of the table, hands cuffed to it so that he couldn't move too much. He was worried, he never said that he wasn't, but it was amusing to see Dean in that position.

"Hello, Mr. Blake," he said with a smirk before turning to the police officer. "Do you think that I could possibly talk to my client in private?" Jenkins nodded before turning out the office, closing the door behind her.

Dean was looking at him with the same smirk in his eyes, even though it was completely misplaced, considering that Dean was the one handcuffed to the table, not Castiel. With a shrug, he sat down in the chair opposite him, pulling Ben out of his stroller and into his lap. Ben looked up at him, confused at the sudden change of scenery.

"So," Castiel started, "what did you do? You didn't kill anybody, did you?" His fingers absently stroked Ben's back after pulling the hat from his head. Fluffy hairs stood up in all directions, making Castiel laugh before smoothing them down with a smile on his lips. "Because I cannot get you out of this if you were caught literally red handed.

"No," Dean promised before shaking his head, "attempted B&E." Dean was clearly annoyed by it all. "Dad was just picking the lock god damn, we weren't even inside. They have no real evidence."

"I take it that it's the same for your father?" Dean just nodded at him. "I'll see what I can do. Have you guys been arrested under these names before?" Dean shook his head. "Okay. I'll need to talk to your father too though."

 

Castiel's conversation with John was a lot more businesslike and without Ben on his lap. He had kept him in the stroller, the stroller turned so that only Castiel could see Ben sleeping away, smiling in his sleep. Castiel was unsure how much John knew about Ben and if he even knew about him, so he kept to himself with Ben, only reaching in once when he started crying because his pacifier had fallen out of his mouth.

John agreed to the story that Dean told, how he indeed had been picking the lock - had just bent down to do so even - but the cops had arrived never the less because a neighbor had called it in. How they hadn't seen anything, not the slightest thing.

"I'll tell you the same as I told him," Castiel eventually agreed after noting down most of the information that he'd gotten from, "I'm going to do my best to get the both of you out of here asap."

 

Two hours later, Dean and John were laughing about it, even though Castiel couldn't get the grim look off of his face as they talked. They had decided to stop in a little diner so that Ben could have his bottle and Castiel could eat something. He was starving, capital S starving. He hadn't eaten since leaving the house at eight AM and even that had been just a quick breakfast because he was already late.

"You let your babysitter vouch us out?" John asked Dean, looking up from the rim of his beer. Dean was sitting next to Castiel with Ben on his lap, watching him with a fond expression in his eyes as Ben fought off the sleep that the little squirrel needed, maybe even more than Cas did. "Because that is just."

Castiel looked down at Ben with a tiny smile on his lips, not even sure what Dean's answer would be. If Dean didn't want to tell his father just yet, that was okay with him. It didn't settle too well with him, if Dean wasn't ready to tell yet, well, that was fine with him. Castiel didn't know what he would do if his parents found out either.

"Kinda," Dean said, suppressing a smile. Castiel could see the muscles in his cheeks move. "He's my room mate and a lawyer." It was then that realization dawned on Dean's face. "You've met him before dad. He kind of saved your ass once upon a time."

He flinched at the use of language, but let it slip. "That's five years ago, Dean."

"Oh, you're that kid," John said, now seeming to realize who Castiel was. "The exorcism." It wasn't a fond memory to Castiel, knowing that he'd been gravely injured and that he'd taken a few weeks to recover from the blows. "I remember you now." He tried not to flinch at John's look. "You've changed."

"Yeah," Castiel agreed sourly, "I know." He twisted the cords of the cannula in his hands. "Things haven't been all to great for me, medically speaking."

"Because of his own accords," Dean grumbled slightly under his breath. He felt Cas's hand wander to her knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Dean could see in the corner of his eyes that Cas wanted to protest, but he just shook his eyes lightly. John looked up and down the two of them, but just shrugged it off.

"So this is the kid?"

"This is Ben." He felt the smile tug at his own lips as he turned Ben in his arms, shifting him so that his father could take it all in.

"Looks like you," was his only remark, before nodding and finishing the last of his beer. Or at least, that was what Dean thought as his father stood up from the chair. Instead, he came closer, pulling his chair along ans reached out for Ben. "Can I?"

Ben almost seemed to disappear in John's arms. John wasn't like Sammy, he didn't talk to him in baby voices or was all that kind. He just held him, a sad expression in his eyes. Dean knew that he was lost in times long gone, when Dean and Sammy had still been babies, times in which perhaps, they'd been happy. At least happier than the way they were now, with Sam not talking to him or even coming home and both of them hunting all the time.

Ben was so calm and content too, just staring up at his grandfather's face with a slight twitch around his lips, as if he was trying to smile, but couldn't.

"He's been trying to smile all week," Cas said with a slight smile on his lips. Under the table, Dean could feel Cas's hand resting on his thigh lightly. He took his hand, brushing his fingers along Cas's, threading them together. "I think he's going to actually smile soon enough. You should try him when he sleeps."

"You know," John said all of a sudden, looking into Ben's green eyes, "you had the same stares when you were a baby. You'd just stare as if the person holding you suddenly was the most interesting thing in the whole world. Sam did that too, though you did that way more often." Dean noticed the grin tugging on his father's lips and well, it made him smile too. “He can't have being so calm from you through Dean, you were never this calm.” Ben started squirming in John's arms.

“I'll make his bottle,” Cas said, before getting the bottle filled with water and the formula out. Dean was almost surprised at with how much ease he made the bottle in under a minute and was off to get it warmed up, as the waitress had promised they could.

Dean barely noticed that he was following Cas with his eyes until his father coughed and drew the attention back to him.

“Have you heard from your brother kid?” John asked suddenly. “How's he doing?”

“Good,” Dean said,kind of taken a back by the question, “he spend the weekend last week and he looked happy, healthy. Said that it's a lot of work, but he'd manage.” He shook his head. “He's always been the genius.”

“Well, kid, it was good seeing y'all, but I should probably get going,” John said. “I'm going to get some shut eye. See you in the morning.” John nodded when Cas came back with a warm bottle in his hands and disappeared out of the diner.

 

Cas ate his pancakes in silence as Dean fed Ben his bottle. Neither of them said much, but it was a comfortable silence. There was no need to speak. Dean did notice that Cas had seemed to be getting more withdrawn from him again and wondered, for a second, if there was something that he'd done wrong.

“Do you want to sleep too?” Cas asked all of a sudden, looking up from his now empty plate of pancakes. “You both look tired. John more than you, but I can imagine that he always looks tired. I can take care of Ben for a little longer if you need to sleep.”

“I'm fine,” Dean assured him, “but I do need a shower.” Cas signaled for the waitress to bring the bill and they left after paying.

 

Castiel allowed Dean to take a long shower while he and Ben lay on the bed. He lay on his side, looking down at Ben with an affectionate smile on his lips, trailing his fingers across Ben's belly absently. He himself was tired, that was mainly why he had proposed to Dean that he should perhaps try sleeping.

He was running on maybe twenty hours of sleep in the past week alone and hell, if he didn't get some sleep sooner or later, he'd be a zombie when he got back to work, the following day. The thought made him almost groan in frustration. He needed at least two months of vacation and he hadn't even been working for two months.

“Hey there.” Dean fell down next to him on the bed, damp hair framing his face. “Has he really been a good boy?”

“Yeah,” Castiel yawned, “he's been quite okay, just not at night. I've seen all hours with this dude.” He stroked Ben's head with a slight smile before putting the pacifier back into his mouth. Ben started sucking on it eagerly, before yawning. "I'm going to put him in his crib."

 

It took fifteen minutes before Ben was safe and sound asleep in the travel crib, but he eventually slept. Castiel smiled as he sank down on the bed, allowing his head to hit the pillow. He was somewhere in the realm of sleep and consciousness. He vaguely noticed somebody chuckling and pulling him closer. Castiel gladly snuggled up against the nice and warm body, wrapping his arms around it.

"Sleep tight Cas," he heard somebody sigh, before pressing a kiss in his hair. It wasn't long before the other person too calmed his breathing down to a steady rhythm.

 

Dean watched Cas sleep for a little while after waking up, his hands absently petting his hair. He looked so peaceful when he slept, without his walls up to protect him. Cas snuggled closer to him in his sleep, laying more than half on Dean's abdomen.

Dean had only been awake for a few minutes, the darkness in the room unsettling at first. They had slept away the rest of the day, waited until night to fall to wake up.

"Hey," a sleepy voice said. It was oddly amusing to see Cas wake up for a change, knowing that Dean was always the one that slept in.

"Hey there sleepy head," Dean said, smiling, pressing a kiss against Cas's temple.

"What time is it?" When Dean mentioned that it was almost seven o 'clock, Cas tensed up completely, scrambling up.

"I got to be at work tomorrow and it's an eight hour drive," Cas groaned, pushing the hair that had landed in front of his eyes out of his face.

"Call in sick?" Dean proposed. "I'm sure your co-workers would understand."

"I can't Dean," he sighed, before gathering his stuff and pushing it back in his duffel, getting ready to leaven. "I cannot bail on them."

"At least have dinner with me."

Around half past eight, they said their goodbyes. Dean curved their hands together for a moment, before pressing a quick kiss to his lips and letting him go, Ben in the back seat.

 

Days, weeks even passed by and went in a steady, comforting rhythm. Dean would crawl into bed later than he did and they would snuggle up together. On the morning, Castiel would make them breakfast and would leave for work after kissing Dean on the lips. Often, he'd find himself running late because he'd gotten too busy with his fingers trailing down Dean's sides, not wanting to leave, just crawl into bed with him. Both of them worked harder than they'd ever done, Dean occasionally picking up cases that his father send over to him and leaving for a few days. Each time, Castiel was more than happy to see Dean had safely returned.

Ben was growing up way too fast for either of his fathers to be okay with. He had started being able to hold his own head for a little while, cooing and smiling. But most of all, he was growing like crazy. His diapers were starting to get small of him and some of his newborn clothing was starting to fit him a little snug. Heck, he'd even gotten his two month shots and everything.

As November rolled around the corner, Castiel could notice the dread in Dean, how he was nowhere near as relaxed as he previously had been. At first, he believed it when Dean said that it was just because of stress at work, but after a while, the realization doomed over him.

Castiel understood the sadness that Dean felt. It had been twenty years since he'd lost his mother that month and he missed her.

“Dean,” he said, sitting down next to him in the couch the evening of November the first, his warm cup of tea clasped in his hands. "Is something the matter?" Dean had been curt and out of patience the whole day and his mood had gotten even worse after he'd come back from the diner. Castiel almost thought that he could smell alcohol on his breath, but knew that Dean wouldn't drink, not with Ben around.

Dean had gotten surprisingly sober, sticking to a few beers tops without ever getting drunk. It was nice, pleasant. Castiel had had more troubles with staying off the booze when night rolled by and he got that sunken feeling in his heart. He had been drunk by the time that he had crawled into bed a few times and each time, Dean had been almost furious.

"I'm fine," Dean said, eyes fixed on the television screen in front of him. They were showing reruns of some show about cops he'd seen a thousand times and Castiel was positively sure that Dean had seen the episode that they aired at least a thousand times before.

"You're not," Cas pressed carefully, setting the cup down and turning to Dean, to reach out for his face. "I want to know what is wrong? Will you please tell me?" There was pleading in his voice and to his surprise, Dean didn't jerk back from his touch, not like he usually did when he was like this.

"It's..."

"I swear to God Dean Winchester, if you finish that sentence with nothing, I am going to be more than angry with you."

"It's just been twenty years okay!" Dean said, eyes accusing. Castiel looked away, giving him a sad nod. "Tomorrow."

"Do you want to go to the cemetery?" Cas asked him, pulling Dean closer to his body. "I have the day off tomorrow, if you want, we can go."

"I just need distraction," he muttered, easing back against Castiel. He turned his face to press a kiss against Cas's lips. They were warm and soft, sweet tasting from the honey and milk that he had put in his tea. "If that's okay with you." The words were muttered against his lips. Dean couldn't help but smile as the realization dawned in his eyes.

Suddenly Cas was very aware of the way that Dean leaned forward to get the remote and turn the TV off, cloaking them in darkness. He didn't mind, not at all. They had decided to take it easy in their relationship, not to get ahead of themselves. Neither Castiel nor Dean had a lot of luck in their life and even though they'd spend the night together before, it wasn't something that either of the boys wanted to rush, even though it clearly was something that both wanted.

"That's fine," Castiel croaked before he was pulled onto Dean's lap, his lips following a trail down Cas's jaw, down his neck, to his collar bones. He felt the shudder that it caused in Cas and couldn't help but widening his smile. Dean's hands tugged at the hem of Cas's shirt, sliding his fingers under it and over his chest. Fingers slid over muscular skin, hovering for a second where he knew a scar was.

However reluctant it had seemed at first, Cas now followed his movement with ease, pressing kisses to his collar bone. He looked a little insecurely at Dean, looking for approval as he fiddled with the hem of his shirt, lifting it just a little bit to show his hips. As a reply, dean sat up a little making it easier for Cas to pull his shirt over his head.

Castiel smiled at the look of still slightly tanned skin, lips pressing kisses along his chest, lingering just that little bit longer by the tattoo. It had always amazed him how the single design of the sigil could keep demons out, it was nothing more but ink on skin.

"We need to get you one," Dean muttered against his lips, voice sounding just that bit hoarse. "Would you like some ink?"

"We'll see," Cas teases, before sliding his gaze down Dean's chest, kissing every scar that he encounters, sliding down to his hips and feeling him shutter under his touch. Cas can feel Dean's fingers as he slides along his sides, before pulling off his shirt too. Castiel felt the cold breeze hit his torso, but didn't care, because Dean was there. Dean was warm and his.

 

Eventually, they ended up in bed, both so tangled up when they woke up from their dreamless sleeps that for a second, Cas didn't know where he was. The memory of last night was vague, but comforting. He knew that this would never have happened if Dean hadn't been upset, but he didn't care. All he knew was that it had felt right and good and well, liberating. He knew that he loved Dean with his whole heart.

Another thing that he also knew was that Sam was coming over - he had send both of them a text halfway through their passionate make out session gone too far that neither had even bothered to check until the third and fourth message came and Dean decided to just take the battery out of his phone - and the living room still littered with their clothes of the night before.

Oh well. Cas snuggled closer to Dean, taking in his scent. They both needed showers, skin still sticky with the sweat that had dried, but he didn't mind. He didn't want to wake up Dean anyway, too comfortable in their tight embrace.

That was, obviously, when Ben started crying his lungs out in his crib. Slightly annoyed, Castiel untangled himself from Dean, who groaned slightly before turning in his sleep and continuing sleeping. Cas quickly slipped into a new pair of boxers and PJ pants before taking Ben from his crib and taking him to the kitchen, ready to pick a bottle of formula up from the fridge and popping it in the microwave.

"It's okay Ben," he murmured against the kids forehead. "You'll get your food in a second. Do you need a new diaper or are you set?" Completely without shame, he smelled the air round him, sniffing. "Okay, let's start with that diaper."

 

Dean got up over an hour later, coming in the kitchen with a slight grin on his lips, too dressed in nothing but boxers and PJ pants. He felt the arms slide around his waist and eased back into the embrace after carefully setting his steaming cup of coffee on the counter.

"Hey baby," Dean muttered, obviously still sleepy.

"Baby huh?" Cas asked amused, turning in his embrace to press a kiss to Dean's lips. "Morning by the way, coffee?"

"Yes." Cas gave Dean his cup, pouring a new one for himself. "What are you planning for today? Do you want to go to the cemetery?"

"Sam will want to," Dean muttered. "So yeah, I guess. She needs to meet Ben anyway." Castiel noticed that Dean wanted to be brave and smile, but that there were tears stinging in his eyes. Of course, at that exact moment, the doorbell rang. "I'll go get it." He quickly kicked their clothes away before opening the door to a very tired and sad looking Sam.

"Hey." Even the words didn't sound the same. He saw Sam pull up his eyebrows at the sight of both a half naked Cas and a half naked Dean in the background but he just shrugged and stepped in, falling down on the couch. "I had to walk the last miles. Car fell without fuel."

"I'll fix you some coffee," Cas said, before disappearing in the kitchen to fetch it. "Should be good."

"Thanks," Sam sighed. "Are you guys planning on going to the cemetery later?"

"Yeah," Dean said. "In about an hour or something."

"Mind if join?"

"Sure," Cas muttered, "I'm going to take a shower."


	20. Mary Winchester

_Sunlight comes creeping in_   
_Illuminates our skin_   
_We watch the day go by_   
_Stories of all we did_   
_It made me think of you_

**Wings - Birdy**

 

Cas allowed Dean to take a shower first while he worked on fixing them breakfast. He'd left Sam alone in the living room for a little while, knowing that Sam wanted to spend some quality time with his nephew. He could hear the giggles coming from the other room, Sam's laugh echoing in the apartment. It was good to hear some laughter while the past months had been filled with so much sadness and tears.

The bacon was done too soon, the eggs on plates before he knew it. He even set the table before he was ready to give up this time to let his thoughts wander. Dean got out of the bathroom, clean and clothed for a change by the time that Ben needed a diaper change.

It took Cas longer to take a shower than it had done Dean, but eventually, they were all dressed and ready to go to the cemetery. Even Ben had been dressed up a little bit – a nice plaid shirt and his first baby jeans - for the occasion. Dean had done so and told him that if Ben was going to see his first angel, he'd better get ready for it.

 

Castiel strolled a little to the back while the two brothers in front of him talked. Jessica - Sam's girlfriend - was walking with Castiel. She had showed up a little while after Sam did, a gentle smile on her lips and a almost sad expression in her eyes.

He had opened the door for her, a little confused until she said that she was there for Sam. Sam had perked up at the sound of her voice, gentle smile reflected in him as he stood up and introduced her to them, Jessica Moore, my girlfriend, usually Jess followed by pulling her closer and pressing a kiss to her lips.

He allowed the brothers their privacy while he walked with Jess, the two of them occasionally sharing a few words, but not too often. It was just that little bit awkward, them having almost nothing in common but the love they both held for one of the Winchester brothers. Sam and Dean were talking softly, sharing memories that they were fond of. Even though he wasn't leaning in, he could hear some words.

He didn't mean to intrude on their conversation, what was shared between two brothers should perhaps stay between the two brothers, especially if it was about their mother. Castiel couldn't help but listen in though, trying to take a peek at Ben, who was looking at Sam with a smile on his lips from his stroller.

“Yeah,” he heard Dean mutter, “not sure about dad. I mean, he knows, but.” Dean fell silent for a little while. “Found out the hard way too. Didn't mean to tell him like that, but hey, when you've got your arms wrapped around another man, you can't really pretend, can you?”

“Didn't throw you out, did he?”

“He is very stoic about it. Hasn't said a word to me since.” Castiel knew what they were talking about, the memory clear on his mind. He and Dean had been in the cemetery, making their usual round of Claire's grave and for a change, a few minutes by Mary's grave too. He had been a sobbing mess, tears soaking the collar of his shirt. The depression had been starting to hit him more and more again as Claire's birthday had passed and time reminded him. John had seen Dean comforting Cas, pressing a kiss in his hair and telling him that it'd be okay. It would all be okay.

“Do you want me to talk to dad? Maybe he'll listen to me.” Dean shook his head, done with the conversation, wanting to steer it to happier places.

"Sorry about that," Jess said next to him.

"It's nothing that I'm not used to," Castiel muttered, still thankful. "My father was the same way the first couple of weeks after finding out that his son was gay too. He did find out a little worse though." He bit back a laugh. "Well mom did." Jess's eyebrows arched up in surprise, curiousness coloring her expressions. "She caught me and my first boyfriend Noah the morning after." He still blushed a little when retelling the tale. Jessica seemed to be amused by it though. "Yeah, she wasn't all too happy about it."

The brothers stopped at Mary's grave a few steps in front of them. "Do you think that we should leave them for a bit?"

"They need us to stay," Jessica said, "whether they want to admit that or not."

"Hi mom," Sam said, looking down at the cold stone. Castiel tried to see how Dean was feeling, threading their hands together. Dean pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around his waist and leaning his head on Cas's shoulders. They didn't seem to be able to speak any further, words stuck on their tongues.

"You have a pair of extraordinary boys ma'am, it's a pleasure to call one of them mine," Castiel said, rubbing one of his fingers in soothing motion across Dean's palm, "and I would have loved to meet you, if I could."

"She would have adored you and Ben," Dean muttered. Even though Castiel wasn't sure, he thought that there were tears in his voice. Dean was always so careful about not letting it seep through that he was surprised that he had started picking things like this up after all this time. "She should have been able to meet you." From the corner of his eye, he saw that Jess had her hand firmly pressed into Sam's, rubbing soothing circles across his back, whispering something too low for him to hear. Cas hadn't even noticed the tears rolling from his eyes before now.

"You should see Sammy now mom," Dean said, smiling with tears in his eyes. "He's the nerd of the family. Going to Stanford, studying law like the big boys. Guess that we have something running in our blood that connects us to the law, huh. I never thought that I'd say it mom, but I've never been more proud of him than I am now." Sam looked up at that, surprise coloring his face. "He's got himself a beautiful girlfriend, a secure job. Your little baby boy is going to make it in this world mom. Even more than his annoying big brother." Dean threw a smile at Sam, ruffling his hair. "But I'm still the handsome one of the two of course. Dad probably won't agree with me mom, but maybe it's good that he has his shot at escaping the business."

Sam actually laughed at this. "You'd be proud of Dean too mom. He's settled down. Your boy is still in the business, but he works less hard mom. He's an amazing cook. Or at least, that is what he makes us believe. Dean still has to prove that to us." There was a smirk on Sam's lips. "We'll see if we get a dinner arranged. He's got a baby now, he's a daddy and he's got Cas. Cas is good for him mom, they look out for each other. You'd be proud of them both. I don't know if you know what Cas has been through, but he's a fighter that one." Castiel looked up at Sam in surprise. "They are good together." Jess looks up at Cas at that moment, a proud look in her eyes. That's our boys. He nodded at her, an affectionate smile on his lips as he looked up at Dean. There were tears in his eyes too, but he tucked them away. Hid them from everybody, even though his brother was crying and didn't even mind them noticing that much. It was probably because

"It's okay," Cas whispered so only Dean could hear. "It's perfectly okay." Dean drew in a sharp breath, before turning Castiel around and burying his head in his shoulder.

"I just miss her Cas," he whispered in Castiel's ear, "I just miss her so freaking much."

"And that's okay," Castiel whispered back, "you can miss her if you want to, she's your mom after all, you've never really known her, of course you miss her. You were only four when it happened Dean and look at you now, you're all grown up, you're a big boy now. She'd be more than proud of you." He turned Dean's head so that they were looking at each other. "And if that is not enough, I am proud of you. Ben is proud of his daddy."

 

Back at home, the brothers were both emotionally pretty drained. Dean had decided to watch a movie with all of them, promising that he'd make them dinner before Sam and Jess would have to leave again. When Sam mentioned that they'd be staying the night because they wouldn't have classes next week anyway, Dean perked up and smiled at them, promising that they could have the master bed whilst Cas and Dean would be sleeping on the couch now that they had a pullout anyway - after Castiel had fallen asleep in the sofa and slept on there for three nights he had finally agreed to buying a new one.

Halfway during the movie they were interrupted by Castiel's phone starting to ring. When he came back from the hallway, Castiel was annoyed, annoyed because he'd gotten a call from his client on his one free day, about wanting to make some last minute changes in the divorce papers, about adding a claim for child support that was higher than the number already on the paper, about having a lower income now that she had checked.

"Okay," he muttered, "sorry guys, but I have to go to the office real quick to change something on papers, I will be right back. Never come a lawyer Sam, you'll regret it." And with those words, Cas was out of the house, the door pulling shut behind him.

"He's been working hard, hasn't he?" Sam asked Dean, who had just gotten up from the couch to get another beer.

"Yeah. A little too much." Dean fell back on the couch. "He's barely home lately, but that's fine though. He's worked so many hours that he can afford to take a day off every once in a while, that's nice."

"Do you think?"

"That's he's trying to work harder so that he can forget about Claire?" Dean asked. "Yeah, he's been down again lately." The memory of Cas being down again and how he had been the past days pained him. "He's been doing that thing again, where he suddenly hides in the bathroom to smoke or drink? He thinks that I don't notice it when he crawls out of bed at two AM." Jess was clearly a little uncomfortable with the situation because she didn't know what had happened.

"Have you debated on getting him checked out by a doctor? Maybe they can help him."

"'He doesn't want me to." Dean grumbled. "I'm thinking that I should anyway. I'll go change the sheets in the main room so we don't have to do that later."

"I'll help," Jess offered, "I'm pretty sure Ben won't mind staying with uncle Sam for a little while." Ben was sleeping on Sam's chest anyway.

 

They worked in silence for a little while, though it was clear that Jess wanted to ask him something. Dean didn't press, just allowed the opening.

"Dean, can I ask you something?" she asked eventually, nervous look in her eyes. "I know that I probably shouldn't ask, but I'm curious." Dean nodded as he changed the pillow covers, allowing her to ask her question. "May I ask what is wrong with Castiel? What you were talking about earlier."

"I should have him tell you this," Dean said, "and if you want the complete story you will have to ask him, but he's been going through a rough couple of months. When I moved in with him, we were old friends that parted in one of the worst ways. He was a wreck. Even I don't know all that he went through in college and before, but it hit him very hard. Cas wrecked his lungs in college by starting to smoke even though he was already on oxygen therapy to help him breathe. He's been on a very high setting and now he's slowly getting out of those settings, luckily. From what I have noticed, he can sort of live without it, but his lungs would deteriorate so quickly that he'd be back on in no time. What I mentioned with the bathroom thing is something that I don't know if Cas wants you to know. So I would suggest asking him. But he has been going through a very rough spot in his life, I can tell you that."

"He's depressed, isn't he?" Jess clasped her hands in front of her mouth, as if she hadn't meant to say it. "Sorry, it's just that I am a psychology major and well, he seems to be showing a lot of those things."

"It's fine, that's what me and Sam think to, we just need to get him to seek help. If he doesn't want to, we can't force him into anything. I just want to be there when he does break. Maybe it'll be soon, maybe it'll be later, I don't know."

 

Castiel came back from the office around seven PM, he was exhausted, his eyes were bleary. Dean was in the kitchen when he heard the door slam shut, the thundering footsteps approach and the kitchen door fly open, an annoyed and tired looking Cas standing in the doorway for a minute before falling down in a chair. In the background he could see Jess and Sam watching television, looking at Cas with surprise in their eyes. Dean looked at him with confusion in his eyes, before putting a cup of coffee in front of him and returning to his food that was cooking on the stove.

Cas was never angry, he never came home furious or annoyed, only disappointed in people or annoyed with them, this was full on fury that Dean saw.

"I swear to God, if I ever see that annoying client again it will be his death, not mine," he grumbled, fingers clenched into a fist on his side. "It is Sunday goddamn, the only day in the week that he knows that I won't work. So, I finish those divorce papers right, tell her to come pick them up tomorrow, say that they will be right there at my desk to come right in. No she insists on picking them up today. She tells me that she'll be there in fifteen minutes, she arrived a half an hour ago, didn't even say sorry, picked them up and just left. So I stop her and say, remaining friendly that it's my only day off and I would have liked a heads up of when she was coming by the pick them up, because I'm not even supposed to be at work, she snaps at me about how it's my job and how I always have to be available, no matter what." Dean noticed the tremble in his hands, the throbbing of a vein in his head. "I swear to God that I am going to charge her all of the hours that I waited for her and because it is a Sunday, she'll pay double."

"Dinner will be ready in a few minutes," Dean promised before kissing a kiss in his hair. "Make her come back Monday morning because you 'forgot' something."

"I can't do that," Cas sighed, before drinking his coffee in three big gulps. "I love you."

"Love you too."

 

Days and weeks passed. After Jess and Sam left that Thursday. The holidays passed by and Dean and Castiel were getting nervous just thinking about it. Castiel had gotten one or two calls from both his mother and his father's previous wife, stating how they were both throwing Christmas parties and they were invited for both.

One heated argument with his mother and father later, he knew to whose Christmas party he wasn't going and it wasn't Sarah – the woman's – party. He still thought of them as family, even if he only saw them once or twice every year.

Once that had been decided, the Christmas shopping frenzy began. The Novak-Abbot family was a big one, with Micheal and his wife Amanda, complete with daughter Cassie, his twin brother Lucifer with Jennifer and twin daughters Chloe and Julia just a few days younger than Ben, Gabriel and his husband Alexander and adopted son Steve, Anna and Trey coming too. Of couse, Sarah would be there too, so the presents would be many.

They were pushing the stroller through Carters, now three month old Ben fast asleep after having a crying fit the entire way there. He was growing so fast, even if he was still in zero to three month clothing. They'd had portraits taken a little while ago, the pictures now hanging in their living room. Castiel loved all of them, even if they weren't all perfect.

In his wallet he now carried two of his favourite pictures. One that had been taken in the early days, Dean sleeping with Ben in his arms, grinning like a fool and the second picture one of the photography session. Castiel sitting in Dean's lap, Dean pressing a kiss to Castiel's hair and Castiel holding Ben in his arms with a smile on his lips.

“What do you want to get for the kids? They are the easiest, aren't they?” Dean asked, pushing the pacifier back into Ben's mouth. They had been browsing the baby boy clothing aisle for a while now, trying to find something for Ben as well, since he was getting to that stage where all of the clothes he owned were either covered in spit up or getting small. They needed to find something for Ben to wear to the Christmas party.

“I thought maybe clothes?” Castiel shrugged. “At least for the twins. They're the same age as Ben and we always run out of clean clothes so.”

“Good idea,” Dean said, picking a long sleeved red shirt from the rack. When he turned it to show Cas, he could see the moose design on it. “For New Years?”

“Sure,” Cas nodded. Castiel hung it over the handles of the stroller, where a plaid shirt was already hanging. “Why don't we go over to the girls section?”

In the girls section, they ended up picking up too much stuff. They found adorable matching sets of a simple pair of leggings and a grey peplum top for one of the girls, a blue one for the other, a three piece set for one of the girls that had a long sleeved onesie, a pair of pants and a shirt and a matching dress for the other one and a incredibly adorable set of a plain white onesie with flower patterned pants and a jacket with the most adorable bear ears that Cas had ever seen. Castiel added in two adorable flower toys when Dean wasn't watching.

“That's it,” Castiel muttered, “if we ever adopt you can be sure that I'm hoping for a girl.” The handles of the stroller were filled with clothes and after paying, they carried a sack that was filled with clothing. At least they had things for two kids, two more to go.

For Steve – Gabriel and Alexander's kid – they ended up buying a pair of jeans overalls, a matching pair of socks and a plaid shirt onesie, after calling Sarah to ask what size the boy was wearing. The compartment under the stroller was a mess of the concentrator – which the doctor had actually told them to get rid off and get actual oxygen tanks, they should help better – and too many baby clothes. They eventually wandered in a second hand book store, where they found a bunch of fairytale books in beautifully bound editions.

Shopping for kids was easy, but shopping for siblings that you barely know? A lot harder. Castiel had not the slightest idea what to get for any of them. He hadn't even met Alexander or Trey before. He could go for cheesy gifts, what they were probably going to do anyway.

In the end, they found a beautiful planner with matching pen for Lucifer who would be able to use it as a lawyer, a coffee thermos and an assortment of teas for his wife who was about as addicted to tea as could, two quilts and a beautiful set of throw pillows for Michael and his wife, a basket filled with baked goods and coffee and another basket filled with beauty products for Sarah. For Anna they'd bought about the same as for Sarah, but different products and different scents. Trey had been the one that proved to be the most difficult, eventually forcing them to settle with a jacket and cup that keeps drinks cold or warm when he went out. Castiel was glad that he knew that Trey was into athletics and a professional runner or otherwise, he'd never come up with anything. They spend too much money, but that was okay.

 

They spend the whole next day packing up stuff, running out of wrapping paper halfway through. They had at least two more packages to go and night was falling, but hey.

“Dean?” Castiel asked after finishing the next present. It was almost one AM and Ben was vast asleep in his crib. Around three PM they had to be at Sarah's house. “Come here for a second.” Dean rounded the corner, laundry detergent stuck on his clothing. “I have something for you. Merry Christmas.” Castiel gave him the tiny box. “It's not much, it used to be Claire's. She put it in her will that she wanted me to have it.” Dean opened the box, revealing the necklace. The locket looked old and worn. "I wanted you to have it." With a slight smile on his lips, he opened up the locked. "I copied the photo from your original, I hope that's okay."

"Thank you," Dean choked, before hanging it around his neck and pressing a kiss to Castiel's lips. "I have something for you too." He reached back and took the box from where it had been under the table. "Open it." Inside was a beautiful leather bracelet, Into the night written on it with a pair of wings on either side. "I know that Claire loved the song."

"I love you," Castiel blurted out, tears stinging in his eyes. "It's beautiful Dean, thank you."

"I love you too baby."


	21. Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day early! The chapter was done a little earlier than the previous ones anyway [I've been quite bad with keeping up with the deadline even written whole chapters in one day, oops] so I thought that I'd post it a little earlier. It might even be already Friday for some of you.
> 
> This story is slowly coming to an end. After this chapter, there will be one more and an epilogue.
> 
> There are **trigger warnings** for this chapter, including _thoughts about suicide, depression, melancholy, a goodbye letter, attempted suicide_. If you are triggered by any of these, please be cautious when reading this. I do not mean to upset anyone.

_Blackbird singing in the dead of night  
_ _Take these broken wings and learn to fly  
_ _All your life  
_ _You were only waiting for this moment to arise._  

_Blackbird singing in the dead of night_  
 _Take these sunken eyes and learn to see_  
 _All your life  
_ _You were only waiting for this moment to be free._

**Blackbird - The Beatles**

 

Cas and Dean arrived at the house at the right time, their trunk filled with the presents. They had checked endlessly if they had everything before even pulling out of the driveway. Dean was nervous about this, but didn't show it. He was going to meet the whole family. Not just Claire, Jimmy and Amelia, he'd seen them before and neither of them would even be there. He'd finally know the complete family, Castiel half siblings that he rarely talked about and get had a very close connection to.

"Castiel," a tall woman with long blond hair said, a smile on her lips. "We were waiting for you! Now almost everybody is here. Michael and Amanda are running late, but they called. I have no idea where Anna is. Come in, sit down!" She gave Cas a tight squeeze, before looking at Dean. "You must be Dean." He too got a hug, before introducing her to Ben.

"He looks a lot like you," she remarked, reaching in the stroller to brush a hand along his cheek. Ben smiled at her, grabbing at her arm excitedly, happy to see the new face.

"You might not get your hand back," Dean said, smiling down at Ben, "but yeah, he takes more after me than he does after his mother."

"Well, come on in," she repeated, steering them towards the living room, "Gabriel and his gang and Lucifer his gang are already here. Just throw Gabriel out of the sofa if he's taking up three seats like usual."

"That wouldn't be unlike him," Cas commented, smirking. "I'll introduce you, don't worry." It indeed is a busy bunch when they enter the living room. A little dark skinned baby boy with short black hair was running around around the coffee table, laughing each time either of his fathers tried to catch him or tickle him or whatever. In the sofa sat a guy who he presumed was Lucifer, holding a fussy baby about the same age as Ben, next to him an auburn haired woman with a sleeping identical looking baby in her arms.

"Hi everybody!" Castiel said, with a smile on his lips. "Looks like we're late to the party."

"No matter what they tell you, they just arrived as well," Sarah said from behind them. "Don't let them fool you."

"May I introduce Dean?" he asked with a smile. "That's Amanda, Lucifer's wife and she's holding either Chloe or Julia, I have not the slightest idea."

"Julia."

"Julia," Cas corrected, "I'm never going to get the hang of that, anyway next to her is Lucifer and Chloe." Lucifer stretched out his hand and Dean shook it, forcing a little smile. "That's Alexander chasing down Steve, and the one taking up the whole couch is my brother Gabriel." Cas landed a pointed look at his brother. "As you probably already would have guessed."

"Say Gabe," he said, "everybody does so." Alexander had just gotten up from the couch, chasing after Steve who was desperately trying to flee from his father and his tickles. He slammed into Castiel's legs, pulling on the pants, looking up with an expression that almost screamed _pick me up!_ There was a smile on Cas's lips as he did so, the boy burying his face in the crook of his neck.

"Trying to escape your daddy huh?" Castiel said smiling, ruffling his hair affectionately. Ben was starting to wiggle around in the stroller, fighting against the restraints keeping him in.

“Just a second little one,” Dean muttered, before pulling the hat of his head and getting the blanket out of the way. It was warm enough inside anyway, maybe even a little bit too warm, but that was okay. He lifted Ben up in his arms, who craned his neck to see all the new faces that he had never seen before.

“Put the stroller with the others,”Sarah said, pointing at the side where the other two strollers were already standing. “It won't be in your way.”

 

Fifteen minutes later, everybody was introduced and arrived. Cassie - Michael and Amanda's daughter - ran directly towards Castiel, hugging him around his waist and telling him that she had missed him. It was fun to see, but it also made him wonder why they never saw each other, why they weren't in contact more.

"Hey kiddo," Castiel had said with a slight smile across his lips and lifted her up in his arms, her hands thrown around his neck. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too uncle Cas!"

"This is Dean," he said with a smile. "He's my boyfriend. And that little one, he's our son." It had been one of the first times that he had actually heard him use the words _our son_ and Dean had been damn proud about that, he loved hearing the words  _our son_ roll over his lips.

"But you're mine!" she said protective, wrapping her arms around her uncle tighter. “He's mine.”

“Dinner will be ready in a few minutes,” Sarah promised. “We'll do presents after desert. If anyone still has presents that have to be under the tree, it's in the dining room. So if you want to be secretive, now's the time.” Dean and Cas had brought them inside while waiting for the others, Ben resting in Alexander's – just call me Alex, everybody does – arms, completely content while

“I'll do it,” Lucifer promised, before getting up. Chloe started grunting and wiggling around the second he put her down on the couch next to Amanda.

“Do you want me to hold her?” Dean asked, a little cautious. Ben was asleep in Castiel's arms, sucking on his pacifier and smiling around it, as if he was having the best dream.

“Thanks.” Chloe was warm in his arms, looking up at the stranger a little while before nesting herself better in the crook of his arm and falling right back to sleep. He stroked his finger past her cheek absently, not even realizing that he was doing it. “You're a good little girl, aren't you?”

“She is right now,” Jennifer said smiling, “wait until she has to sleep at night.”

“Ben is the same way when he has to go to sleep,” Cas said, smiling slightly. “I don't think we've seen the last of that kid.” He smiled slightly. "Lately, I've seen all hours walking around with him."

“Just wait until they're older,” Gabriel interjected with a grin on his face. “The second this little rugrat started crawling and walking, he knew how to climb out of his crib. You won't be able to keep them with you anymore. And that might get in the way of extracurricular activities, if you get what I mean."

“I don't know how you managed it Sarah,” Jennifer sighed again, rocking her arms as Julia started wriggling around.

“Lucifer and Michael weren't easy, let me tell you that,” Sarah said, laughing. “They would switch beds when they were old enough to crawl out or they would climb on top of things together. You just get through it.”

“Mom!” Michael complained.

“You'll tell stories about your siblings later too, won't you? Just because you have no siblings that remember you as babies, doesn't mean that you won't have any embarrassing stories!” Lucifer rolled his eyes as he walked in the room again, sitting back down next to Jennifer.

“I swear to god mom, if you tell the same stories that you tell every year, Dean might not come back next year.”

 

Everybody was saved by dinner being ready. They all took their places, most of them having a baby on their lap because there was no way that either of the babies was willing to be put down for a little while. Castiel didn't mind eating with Ben on his lap anyway, if Dean had to take him on his lap, Ben's clothes wouldn't stay clean for long anyway.

They all ate in silence for a little while, the only sounds those of forks scraping against plates. The silence wasn't forced, no it was pleasant. Dean was enjoying himself with Cas's family more than he could have held imaginable.

But there was something up with Cas, he wasn't himself at all. He hadn't been for a few days. Dean hadn't said anything about it because he knew how sensitive Cas was to the whole thing, but that did not mean that he was entirely to happy with was going on. Cas was happy, but not the way that somebody should be happy, it was forced.

Especially now. He could see Cas's face fall each time that he thought that they weren't looking at him. Dean ignored it, not wanting to make a scene or get him upset on Christmas. That didn't mean that Dean was curious about what was going on, what was driving him over the edge, what was driving him back into that dark cloud of depression that seemed to be hovering over him.

There was slight chatter over the next course and eventually when the dessert came everybody was even more relaxed. Dean was quite positive about the fact that the alcohol did that. Nobody was drunk, not yet, but some were clearly under influence of.

"Can I have another piece of cake?" Cassie asked next to him, looking at her father with a hopeful expression in his eyes.

"Grandma already said we're out, Cassie," Michael remarked. "There is no more."

"Here," Dean said, shoving his plate to Castiel, "give her my piece, I'm done anyway." Cassie's face lit up looking at the half finished piece of cake on his plate.

"Really?"

"Really," Dean confirmed, smiling at her.

"I changed my mind," she said with a smile on her lips. "We'll share uncle Cas." Michael looked at her with a sigh, shaking his head slightly. It was an affectionate gesture, but there clearly was some annoyance there too.

“Good,” Dean smiled at her, “because I like him around.” Cassie dug into her cake with a smile on her face.

“Why don't we wrap up and get the kids their presents huh?” Sarah said, looking at mainly Cassie and Steve with a smile on her lips. “Because I've seen someone sneak up to the tree a few times already.” Cassie's face lit up, hopeful. “I'll clean up, you guys gather around the tree.”

Dean sat down with the others while Castiel helped Sarah clean up the dishes. He was clearly struggling under the weight of the oxygen concentrator on his lap. Maybe it was indeed a good idea to go in to the hospital and get an x-ray of his lungs and determine whether they'd better switch treatment options.

“Do you mind holding Ben for a second?” he asked Gabriel, who had decided to take a seat on the chair next to him. As reply, he just stretched out his arms and took Ben from him. Dean got up to help Cas, taking the plates from his hands with a pointed look in his eyes.

“I'll do it,” Cas complained as his work was taken away. Dean couldn't get past the fact that he was already starting to breathe a little harder.

“Nope,” Dean said, handing the last of the plates to Sarah and crouching down next to Cas to see the settings on the concentrator. He was on a half a litre. “Cas!” He tried to keep his voice down, so that the others wouldn't hear.

“It's enough,” he complained, a certain sadness in his eyes.

“It's not. You were struggling with one liter yesterday, you are not going to kid me and say that this is enough.” He returned the settings back to their usual 1.5l. “I will not see you turn this down lower than one liter again, you copy?”

“Yes mom,” Castiel complained as Dean shrugged and put the cannula properly behind his ear, where it has slipped away from.

“I'm just worried Cas. Let's not keep them waiting.”

 

Unpacking the presents was fun. They all started with giving Cassie her presents, since she was the only one of the kids that really realized what they were. She seemed happy with the barbie she got from Sarah, the PJ's that Gabe and Alex gave her, the duvet set that she got from Anna and Trey brought her to smiles too. The last present that she opened was from Dean and Cas. When she saw the books, she had the widest of grins on her lips.

“Thank you!” she said, before giving them both the biggest of hugs, careful with Castiel who was holding Ben in his arms. Even Ben got a kiss on his head.

Lucifer and Jennifer were happy with the clothes that they'd picked out, but told them repeatedly that it was too much. Gabe and Alex were happy too, thanked them for the clothes. Ben was one spoiled baby. He got a ton of adorable clothes that Dean couldn't wait to have him wear, a pacifier with a little teddy bear connected to it, a monkey teddy bear and a beanie that read I'm lawfully cute.

"Thanks everyone," Castiel said, a slight smile covering his lips. Dean had the pile of clothes on his lap, his favorite of all of them at the top. It was a pair of tiger PJ's, a picture of a tiger's face at the bum and tiger feet at the feet. It even had a little tail.

The adults too enjoyed their presents. Dean and Castiel got a duvet set from Gabriel - who had given almost everybody a duvet set - a planner that looked like an old book from Lucifer and Jennifer for Cas, a set of beautifully sharp kitchen knifes for Dean.

"I had intel that you like to cook," Alex said with a smile, "thought it would be apreciated."

"It is," Dean said, grinning. "You can barely cut through anything with out knifes." That wasn't even close to a lie, the past couple of weeks, he'd started using his knifes that he used while hunting to cut their meat. From Anna and Trey, they got a set of cutlery to match. Sarah got them a nice set of dinnerware. Dean was seriously starting to suspect that they had a conspiracy against their kitchen stuff for some reason, not that he minded. Half of the stuff in Castiel's cabinets was old or second hand,

Dean was more than happy with Michaels gift. It was a big toolbox, filled with shiny new tools to work on his baby. Castiel got a typewriter. He seemed to be weirdly happy with it.

“You remembered,” he said beaming, after which he hugged his brother. "Thank you!"

 

They settled in agreeable conversation over coffee, throwing childhood stories back and forth. Dean loved hearing about Cas when he was a child. He had always wondered what he would have been like, because even when they had just met Cas had always been uptight, even while drunk.

"So," Alexander asked, curiosity in his eyes, "how did you two meet?"

"School," Dean began, not sure how much he should tell.

"Not exactly," Cas interjected. "We met at a bar. Ellen didn't want to serve him beer, so I got him beer." Anna almost chocked on her coffee.

"What? Our angelic little baby brother buying beer for strangers?"

"The day after, he took me out for dinner," Castiel said, shrugging.

"After bringing him home drunk," Dean said, shaking his head. If they were going to tell the story, it wasn't just on Castiel's terms. "He couldn't even walk straight. I almost had to carry him home." Ben started crying at that moment. “I'll be right back.”

Ben had been sleeping in the stroller, alongside the twins. It had been almost a miracle that they'd all been asleep for that long. Ben would probably go back to sleep as soon as he had a new diaper. Dean took his time changing the diaper and rocking him back to sleep, doing eventually the same to Julia because she wanted to be changed to.

When he came back int he living room ten minutes after leaving, Steve resting on his hip. He had just woken up from his nap with a curious expression in his eyes and outstretched hands, just begging to be picked up.

"I changed Ben and Julia, Chloe was still doing okay," he said, "this little guy wanted to be up." He set Steve down on the ground, whispering in his ear to go attack his fathers. The boy ran of clumsily, reaching his fathers and hugging them tight. Steve was still a little sleepy and it made him about one hundred percent more adorable. "Where's Cas?"

"He stepped outside for a bit," Sarah said, "I don't know why." He only now realized the oxygen concentrator on the ground next to him. Internally cursing, he picked it up.

"Where did he go?"

"Through the porch doors."

 

Dean found Castiel crouched down on the ground, arms hugging his chest, head resting on his knees. When he noticed the footsteps, he didn't even react, just kept staring ahead.

"Hey baby," Dean whispered, sitting down next to him. Cas was close to sobbing, tears already in his eyes. The oxygen concentrator sprung to life with a simple flick of a switch. He carefully laced the cannula behind his ears, pushing it in place. "Do you want to tell me what is up?"

"They started talking about Claire," he muttered, "I just had to get out."

"I get it," he muttered, pulling him closer, breathing in his scent. "The first holidays are always harder than the later ones. And you can come out to have a minute, but please don't take your oxygen out."

"It allows me to think of other things, the pain," Cas muttered. Dean just nodded, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, resting his foreheads together.

"You just scared the hell out of me," Dean said, maybe too honest. "Try not to do that, okay?"

 

They went back after a few minutes because Cas was freezing and the subject of Claire was carefully avoided. They managed to make it a pleasant night, talking about weird things that the kids had been doing lately, causing Cas to launch into a story of three baths in one day and other things that he had done while Dean wasn't there to see it.

Dean and Cas were amongst the first to leave, Dean having work in the morning and Ben being more than fussy about not being at home anymore. They said their goodbyes, promising to come by more often.

At home, they crawled right into bed. Dean falling asleep the instant that his head hit the mattress, Castiel having a great deal more difficulty with sleep. It wouldn't come for him, no matter how much he tried to fall asleep. It was fine with Cas, he didn't have to get up in the morning anyway.

 

Days passed in the same rhythm, Castiel barely sleeping and being plagued by nightmares, Dean trying to consult him. Eventually, he just called in sick for work when he was supposed to come back. He was sick after all, just not the kind of sick that you could see.

Dean had left for work about an hour ago, kissing the him goodbye and promising he'd be back soon. Ben was staying at Sam's, claiming that he wanted to spend some quality time with his nephew. Both Castiel and Dean knew what he wanted to say, that they should have some time off as parents, more as lovers.

Instead, Castiel sat down behind the typewriter that Michael had given him and flexed his fingers. At least half a bottle of whiskey had been drowned tonight already, his vision slightly blurred. Only when he was like this could he really get his feelings out.

 

_Dean,_

_I’m sorry but I can’t do this, not anymore. The world came crashing down on me like a brick wall collapsing on top of me. I wish that I could say to you that I am going good, I really wish, but Dean, I have never been so low as I am now._

_I know what I am planning. I know what I am going to do, and you won’t like it. I’m sorry, I truly am, I just don’t see an end to this tunnel, not anymore. There is pitch darkness all around me, everywhere I look I see a new difficulty._

_You and Ben, you made everything so much better, but you just can’t fix what has been broken. I, I have been broken so many times that you can’t glue me together, not anymore. I wish that I could say goodbye, but I cannot say the words. The words won't roll over my lips. That is why I decided to write this._

_You're not home right now, obviously, but I still locked myself in the bathroom anyway. Ben is spending two days with Sam so that we can have some time off from parenting duty so that we could work on our relationship, also known as Sam being subtle and saying 'just fuck already now you've got the chance'._

_I appreciate your brother's concern for us, but well, being alone has made me think, think about stuff that I haven't thought about in ages, not since Christmas. You know that I have been feeling worse and worse and worse over the past couple of days. I don't know why, but it all just came crashing back to me, all those memories that I tried to suppress, all those feelings._

_I am no longer keeping my head above the water Dean, I am drowning._

_I am drowning and the water keeps pulling me deeper down, each day I find myself being dragged further to the bottom and today, today I hit the bottom. The end of the ocean and well, also the ending of our story._

_Please don't be mad at me, like I asked you before. I know that I didn't come to you for help, because quite frankly, you can't help me, nobody can help me. I am too far gone, just a ghost of what everybody thinks is Castiel Novak, but isn't at all._

_The drinking, the stress, smoking, all of it are things that I use to try and cope with it. Work has been my safe haven for too long._

_Today, I am brave enough to do it. I think I will even be able to do it._

 

_Dean, I want you to know that I've been contemplating taking this final step for ages, have been through ever pro and con and eventually, in the list, the pro's outweighed the cons. I wish I could tell you otherwise, but it's the truth._

_I have contemplated every step of it and I cannot. I. I just don't see a way out of this anymore, the darkness is everywhere Dean. Everywhere that I see is the missing of Claire, everywhere that I look I can see how much I've hurt everyone around me, how I am going downhill every day. Hell, I even refrain from  using my oxygen just because it feels bad to my lungs. What am I doing Dean? I cannot fix this mess, not anymore._

_I love you, you have to know that. I love you from my head to my toe, loved you when we first slept together, that night back in '09. I don't know how much you remember of that night, but I remember every second of it. Every second, every minute of it I loved you. Even drunk._

_Dean, you know as well as I do that I am not a poet, I do not know my way around words like others can, so you'll just have to believe me. I love you. I adore you, you were the one that I want to share my life with, the only one that I want to share my life with._

_Please don't be mad, please don't be mad, I don't know if I could take that._

_Goodbye Dean._

Castiel fiddled with the letter, unsure if it would suffice for Dean. Hell, he didn’t even know if it would be enough for him if he was the one reading the letter. It was all that he could do, all that his mind possibly sprung out right now.

He put a new sheet of paper in the typewriter, kind of sad that the only thing that he’d used it for had been to write his goodbyes to the people he loved, not for cases or not for little stories that he made up. Not even for his thoughts, just to say goodbye.

 

_31st of December, 2014_

_Ben,_

_You probably don’t remember me. I don’t even know if your father still has pictures of me around. Maybe, they became to painful for him to watch. I sincerely hope that it isn’t the case, because the though of me still being in your life even though I’ve moved on is something that I would greatly appreciate. I don’t blame him though. It’s rough._

_If you are wondering who the hell this is, this is me, Castiel Novak, the one who was honored to help raise you for a few months of your life. I learned how to love you and your little personality the day you entered our little apartment._

_In some ways, you were my Savior. If you hadn’t been in my life, I would have ended this a long time ago, but in passing time with you, I learned how to be around you and you pulled my mind out of the darkest corners. You and your father gave me a reason to hold on the way that I did for as long as I did._

_You were a big part of my life Ben, in ways that I can’t even grasp right now. I loved you like you were my own, invited you in my home without even blinking twice. Do you want to know why I did that? I don’t think that even your father knows why I didn’t even object._

_It was because of the smile on your father’s lips, how proud he was when he said ‘this is Ben, he is my son.’ He looked as if he had just found his reason to be on this earth._

_Let me tell you something about his father. He’s had rough past, has been looking after his brother Sam since he was four, since he pulled him out of that house that was about to burn down. After that, their father was too absent, too much of a jerk sometimes to take proper care of his children._

_I shouldn’t talk about your grandfather like that, but that is just the way that I’ve known him. When he found out that his son was bisexual and dating a guy, he just turned around and continued to ignore both of us for weeks, months even. Up until now, I haven’t heard from him._

_Your grandfather did love you, even though he had his flaws. When he met you, he showed us a glimpse of the person that he was before his house burned down and he lost the love of his life, Mary (your grandmother). I never got the chance to meet her, but I know that I would have been honored to do so if I’d get the chance._

_Most importantly, I hope that your father in in a current situation in which he is happy. I hope that he had learned how to love again, how to be the person that he has always been deep down._

_Go easy on him kid. He loves you to pieces._

_Castiel Novak_

 

Castiel put the bottle of whiskey to his lips, letting the amber liquid down out the word outside just a little bit. He folded both letters closed. The one for Dean landed on the bed, the one for Ben on the typewriter. Dean would find it there and keep it safe for him, he hoped.

“I'm really doing this,” he whispered to himself. There was no sadness in his voice, no depression, just _relief_. Relief that it would be over soon, that it was going to end. He would no longer suffer, not anymore. There would be peace after all that had happened.

The pills slowly disappeared. He had everything that they had in the medical cabinet in front of him, taking everything he could. If that didn' work, he still had the gun that his mother had given him next to him.

He flushed the last of them down, suppressing the urge to throw up. The bottle of whiskey was empty, the pills gone. The world swayed, the last thoughts in his mind the text that he had send Dean a few seconds ago.

_Goodbye Dean._

 

 


	22. haunted by memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey baby,” Dean whispered under his breath, taking Castiel’s hand in his, stroking the skin around the IV. “It’s almost 2015. Just two more hours. Can you come back to me this year? Please Cas.”

_Are you at all haunted by memories past?_

_Are you ready to make this one breath your last?_

_Is your chest so heavy you're ready to leave,_

_Or are you hoping that some one will grieve?_

**The Amity Affliction - Chasing Ghosts**

 

Dean had just finished the last of the orders for the night. The kitchen always closed early on Tuesdays, the swarm of customers not enough to keep it open anyway. It was unusually quiet, he and one of the waiters alone in the diner. The boss had found the time to go upstairs and get some work done for the first time this week. It was unusual for new year's eve to be this calm, even his co-worker, Garth, had told him that, not that either of them minded.

They'd been chatting mindlessly the past hour, the only customers sitting at the bar talking along cheerfully. One of them had had maybe a little bit too many beers, talking about how he was going to make things better next year, for his wife and their daughter. Dean caught the ring when it spun out of control and handed it back with a reassuring word, saying that he should probably keep it on and go home, to see them.

That had been when his cell phone suddenly buzzed. Confused, he pulled his phone out, suddenly afraid that it might be Sam sending him a text to say that there was something up with Ben. Sam had been kind enough to take him for the weekend, even though Dean had been very reluctant about it. But Sam had protested up and down that he'd  look after Ben, that he and Cas needed some quality time as a couple. The number on the screen was all too familiar, but luckily not Sam's. When he opened the text message, he froze.

_Goodbye Dean._

He was out of the door of the diner within seconds, excusing himself quickly, calling Castiel all the time. Each time he called Cas’s phone, it went straight to voice mail. The tires of the Impala screeched on the asphalt underneath them, the speed limit completely forgotten as he reached the house, ready to call whatever. He didn’t even know what was going on, but knew that he was worried.

Inside, he was only patient and not panicked enough not to burst through the door. He barely managed to get the key in the lock fiddling with it three times before the door finally swung open, revealing an empty apartment.

 _Had Cas left him?_ The thought itself hurt, but the room was too clean for that. Cas would have taken something with him. Even his trench coat was still here, keys to his car thrown haphazardly on the kitchen table, a still slightly warm cup of coffee on the counter.

“Cas?” he called, only to get no reply. The house stayed silent.

That was when the thought crept up on him. The bathroom door was locked, but gave way after quick lock picking - a handy skill picked up whilst hunting. What he saw there, he wished that he had never seen. His hands trembled as he crouched down next to Cas’s body, feeling for a pulse, but feeling nothing but a faint.

“Cas!” Those were the only words that would leave his mouth, the only thing that he could think about. He didn’t know what had happened, but had a terrible feeling. His hands shook as he dialed Sam’s number, too much in a panic to think straight. He didn’t know what to do, what to try.

“Dean? If you’re calling to check up on Ben, he’s fine. Just like when Cas called earlier.” The voice on the other side was unnecessary cheerful.

“Cas tried to commit suicide,” he choked, brushing the pill bottles and the empty bottle of jack aside, pulling Cas’s body closer to him, hugging his chest. “I don’t know what to do Sam.”

 

Dean arrived in the hospital a few minutes after the ambulance arrived. He’d almost taken wrong turns three or four times, head clogged up an panicked. Dean probably shouldn't be driving, but he had no other option, he needed to be with Cas, needed to be there, needed, needed, needed so much. The thought about what he had just tried hurt, the images flashing back every time he closed his eyes. Cas’s breathing had been too shallow, too struggled. He couldn’t stop worrying, not when he arrived and was waiting in the emergency room, with a warm cup of hospital coffee in his hands.

Just to take his min off of things, he’d started calling around, first Amelia and then Sarah. The conversation was hard each time, and each time he had to say that he didn’t even know if he was going to make it, there were new tears in his eyes, tears he bit back. It was so hard to say each time  _Castiel had tried to commit suicide_. he had actually taken the step. He had.  _Oh God._

Sam arrived there a few minutes after he did, Jess and Ben in tow. Ben was sleeping in the stroller, but Dean picked him up out of it and held him close regardless, the baby bringing him at least a little bit of comfort. Ben woke up from it, but once he realized that it was his father that held him, he just eased back a little, resting his head against Dean, pacifier hanging limply in his mouth as he relaxed.

“Any news?”

“No,” Dean muttered, breathing in Ben’s smell. “They’ve taken him back. I’m waiting.” It was weird how much comfort just Ben could bring. He was wearing the  _my daddy is an angel_ PJ's that Cas had picked up for him a few days ago. Heck, that brought everything in a new light. He averted his eyes, looking around the Emergency Room waiting area, fiddling with his leather jacket, Ben's socks. He just had to do  _something_.

 

And the waiting seemed to take forever. Eventually Sam and Jess returned to the apartment, to clean the mess up that was made in the bathroom, taking Ben with them.He needed to sleep and a hospital was no place to stay. Sam had wanted to stay, but Dean told him to go with, that he needed to be alone anyway. Sam came back, with some stuff for Cas - a pair of PJ’s, toothbrush and a letter that he had found on the bed.

When a doctor finally came back with information, it was after a complete hour of sitting there, drinking lousy coffee and listening to his own thoughts rage around in his head. It had almost driven him insane, head perking up each time a doctor entered. Each time, the doc was there for somebody else.

“He’s stable for now,” the doctor said, sitting down next to him, “we were able to pump his stomach and close the wound on his head. We have to wait until he wakes up before we can give you a more definite answer, but we believe that he’ll pull through.” The doctor looked up. "I think that you realize that what he did was a serious hazard to his life. We will be placing him on our psychiatric floor as soon as he is stable enough. We can hold him for seventy-two hours, in that time we will have a psychiatrist consult and see what he thinks is best."

“He should be on extra oxygen,” Dean muttered the second that the doctor gave him an opening to say something, “he is on oxygen. Without his oxygen, he won't. He'll, he'll be incredibly uncomfortable and black out." He'd seen Cas black out more than once because he had turned off his oxygen or pulled it off. Each time had felt like a knife to the heart.

“Yes,” the doctor said, “we are aware of that. The oxygen levels in his blood were low, so we did a quick check on his medical history and current situation with his lungs."

“How many liters do you have him on?” Dean was just curious about that. At home, Cas had been on one liter as a maximum, because he wouldn't allow for anything more, he was too damn stubborn.

“Two right now. That was when his levels started to be better. We would like to do a x-ray of his lungs, to see if they missed something five years ago. We’ve already drawn blood, the results should be in later today. We’ve prioritized him. If you want, you can go see him now. He is still unconscious but he should be back around.”

“Okay.” His voice wavered. "Okay."

 

The hospital room was cold, the air seemed to freeze around him. He tried not to look at the hospital bed, but couldn’t. Castiel looked everything but good, his skin ashy, the cannula back in place. There was gauze on his head, the place where he had hit his head in the fall. In this light, he saw how bad he looked now, how he had lost weight the past couple of days, how he had shadows under his eyes.

“Hey baby,” Dean whispered under his breath, taking Castiel’s hand in his, stroking the skin around the IV. “It’s almost 2015. Just two more hours. Can you come back to me this year? Please Cas.” He noticed how time seemed to pass slowly, minutes seemed to be hours. Every ten to fifteen minutes, a nurse peeked her head around the corner, to check if Castiel was up yet. When a doctor had come in after a half an hour, he’d said that Castiel would be placed on suicide watch and held in the hospital for most likely 72 hours.

It was hard for Dean to see Castiel like this, hooked up to the machines, more oxygen than he had been under in a very long time. It was almost as if he could see him going backwards in front of his eyes.

Dean felt guilty for leaving him alone. He shouldn’t have thought about the new years bonus he would get if he worked, he should have stayed home and been with him. Maybe, if he had they wouldn’t be in the hospital now.

 

Dean didn’t even realize that he’d fallen sleep, head resting on his knees, legs pulled up. The nurses had seemed to ignore it, seemed to be kinder on the holidays. When he woke up, he was still clutching Castiel’s hand in his, only this time, Cas was staring down at him, through half opened lashes. He still wasn’t awake yet, but it was enough for Dean to jerk his head up.

“Cas?” He whispered. “Cas baby?”

“Dean?” The voice isn’t louder than a whisper, trembling slightly as he fights against a cough.

“I’m here,” Dean mutters, the same low tone. “I’m not leaving you.” I’m never letting you out of my sight again. “I’m going to call a nurse okay? We’ll get you checked out.”

 

Fifteen minutes later, they were left alone again for a little while. The doctor had other patients to tend to, the staff stretched thin on the holidays. He still wasn’t doing much better, he complained about a headache, his lungs hurt. Castiel confided it all to Dean, who passed it on to the nurses.

Dean watched the clock intently for a little while, watching as the clock hit midnight.

“It’s 2015 Cas,” he said, not wanting to say happy 2015 because both of them knew that this situation wasn’t going to turn good anytime soon. Castiel pulled him closer, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. It was a little forced, numb. His heart clearly wasn't in it.

“Can I confess something to you?” he asked after letting his head fall back in the pillow. Dean nodded. “I don’t even know why I woke up Dean.” Cas bit his lip, tears pooling in his eyes. “I didn’t want to wake up, not anymore. I even wrote you a letter. I’ve said my goodbyes, I was done with this life, done!”

“It was a close call,” Dean said, not exactly trusting his voice to be anything coherent. “The doc said if you’d have had another fifteen minutes, they wouldn’t have been able to do anything. Sam found it at home, he’s there with Ben at the moment and Jess, she’s there too.” He nodded at the duffel on the ground next to him. “He brought you PJ’s and everything.” He nodded at the letter lying on the top of it. “The letter too. I haven’t gotten it over my heart yet to read it.” He looked down at Cas. “It would make it final and I couldn’t let that happen.

A nurse peeked her head around the corner, examining the situation in the room before leaving again. Their moment was momentarily broken.

“Do you still want me to read it Cas?”

“Ye… Yeah.” The words are doubtful. “Read it.” He seemed to think for a little while, staring blankly ahead. “You’ll understand me better I think.” Dean wonders why it took him so long to figure out just how broken Castiel really was. He was a shell, a blank canvas.

“Sleep Cas,” he muttered, looking at the clock. “It’s late. You’ll feel better in the morning - headaches always get better after sleep.” Cas nodded grudgingly, letting his head fall back on the pillow. His eyes were closed and his breathing deep in a matter of seconds.

Before sitting back down next to Cas, he made too many phone calls, telling them that Castiel was awake and responsive, but sleeping at the moment. That they should come by during the visiting hours. After too talking to the nurses and getting cleared for Castiel to wear his PJ’s, he sat down next to him again, taking the letter.

Tears ran down his face in a steady stream as he read the words and reread them. His heart was breaking into little pieces, his words hitting home too easily. He should have said something, he should have tried to help Cas and he didn’t. He almost lost him.

 

Morning came around and Dean hadn’t slept or eaten since the previous day, the bags under his eyes clearer than they had been in a long while. He only left Cas because the hospital psychiatrist had arrived after refusing to pick up his phone at all the previous night.

The conversation needed to be conducted in privacy and Dean got that. That was why he didn’t even object before pressing a soft kiss to Cas’s lips and leaving the room. Sam was sitting in the waiting room with Ben, even though visiting hours didn’t start until at least a solid half an hour.

“The psych is talking to him right now,” Dean said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes before taking Ben from his stroller. The comfort that the boy provided was more than welcome. “It’ll take a minute, but he should be done by the time that visiting hours start.”

“Sure,” Sam muttered, “I just came to check up on him. Gabriel and Alex called the land line yesterday. I didn’t call you because it was night, but they said that they would come by one of the following days. They said that they wanted to give him a little space first.”

“Good,” Dean muttered, sliding down in a chair next to his brother. “He’s going to need some space. He’s pretty messed up right now.”

“Have you eaten yet?” Sam asked him, a worried look in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Dean lied smoothly, “I grabbed something from the cafeteria earlier.” But Sam didn’t want any of it, forcing him down to floors to the cafeteria, buying them both something to drink and eat.

Dean didn’t want to, but complied, knowing that Sam would just throw a fit like he had done when they were younger anyway.

 

Dean didn’t even make it home the following three days, while they worked on getting Cas back on track. He spend the days at the hospital, either in the waiting room while he talked with his shrink or with him. Plans were made and an emergency spot was being looked for.

In three days, he didn’t see a shower, eat properly or slept really. The hospital coffee was even starting to grow on him, which was a first. He was blessed to have Sam and Jess look after Ben for a little while, dropping by with him every day. He loved seeing the tiny smile on Cas's lips as Ben nestled himself in his arms, looking at his second father with a smile around the pacifier, only to fall asleep.

“I would have missed this a lot you know,” Castiel muttered late at night once, when Sam had just come to collect Ben and bring him home. “Ben.” He swallowed visibly. “When talking with the shrink.”

“You don't have to tell me anything you don't want,” Dean promised. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine.”

“No, it’s just,” he said, sighing, “he asked me what I would miss. If I had succeeded, and that was all that I could say. You and Ben.” There was a weary smile on his lips. “Everything I said held connection to you, the sounds of you making coffee in the morning, the feeling of Ben sleeping in my arms.” He shook his head. “I just, I don’t know why that isn’t enough to keep me here Dean. I’m a mess. I don’t even know why you still put up with me.”

“You may be a mess,” Dean muttered, “but you’re my mess. You got that? I can’t live and see you go to waste.”

They took him away for an x-ray of his lungs after that, their moment cut off by a nurse that looked about as sorry as she could. When they brought him back later, he was exhausted.

At least the x-rays offered some explanation as to why Castiel was having some troubles with his lungs. The doctor explained to him that his lungs were starting to lose the ability to properly fuction. They finally had a name for the disorder COPD.

The bad news? Things would get worse, there was no cure. Cas would have to kick so many habits that he had in order to help his body get better. The doctor too told him that they didn’t see it as often in young adults, but that it could result from the previous problems that his lungs had had over the years. He would get medicine that could help him and he’d have to stay on the oxygen, but things should be looking up for them when he got out of the center.

 

Even though Cas seemed to be reluctant, he accepted the fact that they would get him help and that he couldn’t get out of it. Dean wasn’t sure if he really wanted to be better, but the fact that he actually tried was reassuring.

Even though Cas seemed to be reluctant, he accepted the fact that they would get him help and that he couldn’t get out of it. Dean wasn’t sure if he really wanted to be better, but the fact that he actually tried was reassuring.

He’d briefly go home to pack before driving over to the center, where they’d have to say goodbye. Dean tried to put that off as long as possible as he parked Cas’s car in the driveway, Ben in the back. He had seen his numb expression falter when Ben was around, he almost seemed to be happy to see the little squirrel, an emotion that Dean hadn’t seen in him in a few days. Each time that Ben had been in the hospital with Dean, he’d been that way, happy and smiling.

“I’ll get started on packing,” Cas mutters, before heading out and closing the door behind them. “We have to be there in two hours.”

“The drive there takes only an hour,” Dean muttered, “take your time. Take what you want to take with you.” They packed together, throwing clothes in a duffel bag, things that were comfortable enough for Cas.

“Do you want to take books?” Dean asked, eying their bookcase, “I don’t know which kind of books you’re allowed to take but.”

“I’d like to,” he said, letting his hand slide over the spines affectionately. “I don’t know which though.”

“See which ones you really want,” Dean said, “I can always bring you new ones when you want me to.”

“I’m going to miss you,” he muttered from the corner of the room, steering away from Dean’s eyes and the hurt Dean knew was in them. He didn’t mean to accuse Cas of anything, it was just, he was hurt by this. Not the kind of hurt that made you angry, just, hurt.

“We’ll pay a visit every week,” Dean promised, not wanting to say that he’d miss him too. “As long as you want us to. I’ll bring Ben every time, he’ll show his daddy just how proud he is of him.”

“I’m still going to miss you,” he sighed, eventually daring to look up into his eyes. The sad look in Cas’s eyes hurt Dean, hurt him to the extend that he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around him, allowing Cas to bury his face in his shoulder.

“I know,” Dean muttered, thinking with melancholy to the empty bed that he’d have to face. “Me too baby. I’ll miss you too.” Castiel pulled Dean even closer around him, making the space between them disappear. Quiet sobs erupted from his throat. Dean could feel the tears splash his shirt, the shuddering sobs that broke free. His heart broke seeing Cas like that, seeing him break down, vulnerable. It was one of the first times that he had really broken down in front of him in ages, not since Claire’s funeral.

“It’s okay,” Dean whispered in Cas’s ear. “I got you, you’ll be okay.” He had tears in his own eyes as he spoke, “it’s okay.”

 

The drive was tense, neither of the boys - even Ben remained silent as he slept - saying a word. Dean knew that Cas was still troubled, even though he had stopped crying almost an hour ago.

If Dean hadn’t coaxed him, he wouldn’t have left their bedroom with his bags packed. Hell, he knew how much the poor kid was struggling with all of it. When he didn’t look, he had put his own favorite shirt in the bag, added a sticky note with the words: if you miss home, maybe this’ll help. He had too added a little teddy bear of Ben’s. He could only hope that it could help Cas adjust.

“It’s only an hour away,” Dean said, halfway through after stopping at the side of the road to change Ben’s diaper, “so if there is anything that you need, you can just call me okay?” Dean wanted to say so much more, but the words got stuck in his throat. “You can always call, tell them that I always have my phone on me, okay?”

“I will Dean. Just, I’ll be okay? I promise you, I’ll be okay.”

“Don’t promise me,” Dean said, “promises can be broken, just, show me, show me that you’ll try your best to get a hang of this and work things out. Work hard in therapy. Just, try okay? I know that you didn’t want any of it, but just try. I’ll stop by and the other family members will do so too if you want to.”

“Thanks.”

 

They arrived at the center after another half an hour, right around the time that they were supposed to be there. Dean slung Castiel’s bag over his shoulder, allowing Cas to walk around with the stroller one more time before he’d be forced to say goodbye to Ben, to their Ben. He wasn’t saying goodbye though, goodbye was too final.

The woman at the desk was kind to the two of them as Dean walked forward and said that they were here for an admittion. The nurse looked both of them up and down before nodding.

“So you must be Castiel Novak,” she said, smiling at Cas. “We were informed that you would be coming. Sit down for a second and we’ll send a nurse in. She’ll give you a tour of the building and get you settled in. Just a second.”

Ben started fussing in the stroller, so Cas took him out, not even bothered by him playing with his oxygen. Ben reached for it, pulling on the cannula and trying to chew on it. Dean looked affectionately as Castiel pulled it out of his son’s hands and smiled.

“Castiel Novak?” a nurse asked. “You can come with me now. Say goodbye to your family and we’ll get started.”

“I love you,” Cas muttered, before pressing a soft kiss on Ben’s head and a second one on Dean’s lips. “I’ll see you.” Dean’s arms wrapped around his boyfriend’s body, pulling him closer to him. He’d miss this, hell, he’d miss this a damn lot.

“I love you too Cas,” he whispered before taking Ben in his arms.

 

Castiel got an tour of the building, was introduced to his main shrink and gotten his room assigned in about an hour and a half. He had seen his all too familiar battered Ford pull up from the parking from the window in his room.

He put all of his stuff away in the closet after hugging Dean’s shirt close to his body. It still smelled like him, smelled of home. His home, his real home, not this place with the crappy mattress and the other patients, not with the nurses and the shrinks.

A letter fell out of the duffel, making a hard thump when it hit the ground. Castiel frowned as he picked it up.

 

_Cas,_

_This is not a proposal, it’s a promise. Keep the ring, wear it. But heck, I swear when you get out, I’ll get you a better one._   
  
_It’s a promise from me to you that I won’t stop caring._

 

Castiel picked the little box up from the ground and smiled grimnly at it, opening the box. It was a simple silver band, blackbird fly sprawled across it in a neat script. _Promise me you’ll live_ on the inside.

Castiel slid it on his finger. Dean made him a promise, now he was going to make him one. He’d live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, sorry that this chapter is shorter. Hope y'all liked it anyway.


	23. Epilogue

**Nine months later**

Today Cas would finally go home, home for good. Dean could finally spend weeks with him without having to drive over to the center to see him, he could hold him and kiss him, Cas could finally with them at their house again. No more saying goodbye after an hour, this time, he was staying right there, in Dean’s arms and he wouldn’t go anywhere. He’d make sure of that.

In the weeks that had passed, the terrible nightmares that he woke up from sweating and crying had been the worst. He never told Cas about it, not in any of his visits and that was mainly because he didn’t want to worry him. In those nightmares, he’d watched Cas die so many damn times that it made him anxious when he went to visit Cas in the center, he was glad to see him alive.

One time, he’d even woken up Ben who was sleeping in his crib with his scream. That one had felt so real, he had actually felt it. Felt his heart break in tiny little pieces once more. The blood that had run over Castiel’s wrists had felt warm to him, he had felt the struggled breaths that Castiel had to go through in his arms, he had felt everything and it bothered him, seriously bothered him. He’d woken up crying and calling out for Cas, not only making him more upset but also waking up Ben and getting him upset. That day hadn’t been a good day for him, period.

Ben was sitting in the backseat of the family car that he had bough a little under a month ago. He’d scraped up the money from his bonus and the money that they’d gotten from selling parts of Castiel’s car that were still usable. He and Cas had talked about it, decided that they should sell his car since it was barely used. It was old and doomed to give out at some point anyway.

He was playing with his toes in his car seat, somehow having found a way to get both his shoes and his socks off without Dean noticing. It was warm in the car, the late September sun shining down on it. That was mainly why he didn’t even bother trying to put his shoes back on, he would just get them off anyway.

“You’re going to have to promise daddy to be good at the center,” Dean said, looking at Ben in the back seat. “Can you do that for me.” Ben nodded. “Good, because today, daddy is going home with us, he doesn't have to stay there anymore.”

 

When he arrived at the center, he put Ben’s shoes back on, giving the boy a stern glance when he brought his feet to his hands again. Ben looked up at him with a big smile on his lips as he was pulled up in Dean’s arms. He rested his head against his father’s shoulder, making Dean chuckle. Sometimes, he wondered where Dean got the shyness that he had. It wasn't like Dean had been that shy as a kid and in the time that he had known Lisa, she  _hadn't_ been shy, not at all.

“You silly sleepy head. Let’s go get daddy.” The nurse behind the desk smiled as he walked in, telling him that Cas would be there in a second. He was just saying goodbye to a few of his friends. Dean had been happy to hear about the friends that he had made in the center, was happy to know that he wasn’t alone in this. If he hadn’t found a few people to talk to, Dean wasn’t sure how long it had taken him before completely isolating himself. He knew Cas too damn well.

“Look Ben, there’s dada,” Dean said with a smile, pointing at Cas’s form aproaching them. He crouched down, setting Ben on his feet. “Show dada how good you can walk now.” Ben had the biggest smile on his lips as he started walking, unsteadily at first but straighter as he went.

“Da-da!” the boy said smiling, “dada!” Cas looked up in surprise as Ben ran towards him and Dean was sure that the smile on his lips couldn’t get any bigger. He had never told Cas about the fact that Ben had been starting to walk lately and that was for this precise reason. Cas lifted him up in the air, snuggling him close to his body.

“Hey kiddo!” he said, “did your daddy leave you here all alone huh?” At that moment he looked at Dean, their eyes locking. “Now I see. Hello, Dean.”

“Hi Cas,” he said smiling, before closing their distance in a few steps, pulling him closer for a hug. “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so damn much.”

“I’ve missed you too. I’ve missed you both. You failed to mention his walking!” Cas said, slapping him on the shoulder teasingly.

“I wanted to surprise you,” he muttered, smiling. 

“It worked.” Cas looked around at the faces around him before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Dean had missed that, missed that so damn much. Missed touching him and holding him close.

“Let’s get going.”

 

Before they could leave, there were a few papers that Cas had to sign, some things that they should think about. He had to find a psychiatrist that he could fall back on to continue the care that they had started at the facility as soon as he could and the medication that he had - something for the depression and the meds for his lungs - he couldn't just drop. The car ride home felt like getting out of school for your spring break. They felt free. Castiel was driving. Okay, he may be a little out of practice, but he had wanted to sit behind the wheel of the car that they could now call theirs. Dean was a little anxious when they hit the highway, but Castiel seemed to do just fine.

They arrived at the apartment a half an hour later, Ben already asleep on Cas’s shoulder the second that he lifted him up in his arms. Dean fell down in the couch, turning on the television, waiting for Cas to return from the nursery. He'd gone to put Ben to sleep.

“He’s out like a brick,” Cas muttered, falling down next to him, setting the baby monitor on the coffee table. “We won’t get interrupted.” There was a smile on Cas’s lips as he tugged Dean closer, pressing his lips to Dean’s. God, he had missed this, missed being able to just do whatever without being forbidden to do so in the center. Dean felt Cas’s hands roam his sides, hooking on the waistband of his jeans. “I missed doing this.”

“Me too,” Dean breathed, hands on Castiel’s hips. There were too many layers between the two of them, heck, Dean had hungered for Castiel’s body for months. The time that he was allowed outside of the center was always too short for Dean to properly take care of him.

“We should probably take this somewhere else,” Dean muttered, lips roaming Castiel’s cheek, fingers toying with the hem of his shirt, “but we can’t.”

“We should get out own house,” Cas said, breathing, “with more room.” Dean felt Castiel’s lip press against his throat, sliding down to his collar bone. “A room for Ben, our room, which locks.” Cas lifted up his shirt a little higher. “Just me and you and a damn lot of time to do this without everybody seeing.” Castiel’s hand caressed the naked skin of Dean’s stomach, teasingly walking over the trail of hair disappearing in his jeans.

“We should,” Dean agreed, pulling Cas up for hungrier kisses. Oh God he had missed this, had missed every second of it. “But the front door is locked. And the curtains are closed.”

“They are,” Castiel agreed, smiling.

 

Dean and Cas woke up tangled together on the couch, their clothing still strewn across the room. Castiel’s cannula left traces in his skin, but he didn’t care, didn’t care at all. For the first time in what felt like forever, Dean didn’t have a nightmare, no, he woke up to Cas’s steady breathing, no sweat on his skin, no tears in his eyes, no nothing. This was so much better, even though he was getting cold. Halfway through falling asleep, he'd pulled a blanket around the two of them, but it only covered up until their hips, nothing above.

Cas was waking up, his head still resting on Dean’s chest. Dean smiled as he pressed a kiss on the top of his head, smiling down at his sleepy boyfriend.

“Hello, Cas.”

 

 

 

**One year later**

Cas was pacing back and forth in the hospital hallway, waiting for Dean to finally get back from the parking garage with their stuff. Dean had the diaper bag, everything. All Cas had was a freaking bouquet of flowers. They had heard that Sarah had just been admitted to labor and delivery quarters from her husband, as they had agreed.

They wouldn’t be in the room as she gave birth to their little angel, as they had put in the contract. Neither Dean nor Castiel felt comfortable with that, not by a long shot. Sarah had pressed that she didn’t mind, that it wasn’t the first time that the Intended Parents had been in the room with her, but they had told her no. She had just chuckled, called them prudes and never spoke of it again.

“Her contractions started six hours ago,” Evan said, greeting them in the hall, “and she has been in active labor for five of them. It shouldn’t be long now. You guys ready to become father’s again?”

“We thought she was due in three weeks?”

“Yes, that’s true,” Evan said again, telling them to sit down in the waiting room, “but she wanted to come early. She isn’t the first child that Sarah gave birth to three weeks early, she’ll be perfectly healthy. If it’s anything, she’ll probably fit into newborn clothing just a little bit longer. I’m going to go inside, but I’ll let you know what is happening the second that it does.”

 

It took another hour of them waiting outside before Evan finally came out of the room with a smile on his lips. She was born, five perfect little fingers on each hand, five perfect little toes on each foot. She was so tiny, so incredibly tiny. They couldn’t see her yet - the doctors were cleaning her up, weighing and measuring her - but they would be able to do so soon.

“Here are the proud father’s,” Evan said as he led them in. Castiel was happy to see that Sarah was already sitting back in bed, the blankets back over her. She smiled at them, looking exhausted.

“Hey guys,” Sarah croaked. She was clearly exhausted after. Castiel handed her the bouquet of flowers and the box of chocolates that they had gotten her as a thank you gesture. “You shouldn’t have.”

“You gave us something way more valuable than a box of chocolates and flowers, Sarah,” Castiel said, hugging her tight, “of course we brought you something.” The nurses came back with their little baby girl swaddled in a soft pink blanket.

“Here she is,” she said with a grin, before looking at both boys. “Who wants to hold her first.”It was the same nurse as the one that had been there on their tour through the maternity ward a few days ago, a tour on which Dean and Cas had kindly been invited by Sarah.

Castiel took the baby girl in his arms carefully, trying not to disturb her or hurt her. She felt so fragile in his hands, as if she could break any second. He could barely feel her weight. He was mesmerized by that perfect little nose and the calm expression on her face.

“She’s beautiful,” he whispered under his breath as Dean took out his cell phone to snap a picture of the pair. She wiggled against the swaddled blanket, freeing her little hands. In all of this, she never even woke up enough to open her eyes. “Silly little girl.”

“What are you going to name her?”

“Claire Elizabeth Winchester,” Castiel said with a smile as he stroked her little cheek. “That’s her name. After my sister.” They hadn’t exactly told Sarah much about their family, only the things that she had wanted to know, like why Cas was sporting an oxygen tank and how long they had been together, if they were married - not yet, but I want to propose to him soon Dean had answered to that question - if there were other children in the household. Mainly, the stuff that made if

“It’s a beautiful name,” Sarah said. They hadn’t told her the name yet, because they had only decided the day before that that was what the name was going to be, Claire Elizabeth. They’d use Claire more often than Claire Elizabeth and both boys knew that, but they wanted to give her the second name anyway, give her more of an own personality.

“For a beautiful girl,” Cas muttered as she opened her eyes for him, blue eyes looking up at him with a curious expression in her eyes. She had short dark hair, slightly curling like her father’s did. Cas reached up to stroke a finger along the girl’s cheek once more, but was stopped as she held on to his finger, purposefully claiming it as hers. “Hi there baby.”

He felt Dean’s head rest on his shoulder from behind, looking at their daughter, theirs. Dean felt oddly possessive of the little girl in his boyfriends arms. He wanted Ben to be there in the room, but that would have to wait for later. He had been staying with Cas’s parents for the weekend when they’d gotten the call that she was in labor and they could hardly make the drive to their house before going to the hospital. They had called though, to tell them. They would come by a little later during the day, when the both of them had been able to get their heads wrapped around the fact that they were father’s.

“Ben will love her,” Cas murmured, shifting her in his arms. Ben was now a two year old energetic toddler that preferred to run around and be the crazy kid on the playground. The only times that he really wanted to be held or sit in the stroller was when he was tired from running around and playing. It was a hit and miss with him, one moment he wouldn’t mind sitting in the stroller and the other moment he threw a fit.

Just to be safe, they had bought a double stroller. They could hassle with two separate strollers, but only if the little family of four was out and about together. There was no way that Cas or Dean would even attempt pushing two different strollers.

“He will,”Dean said, grinning. “Can I?” Cas passed her to Dean with a smile on his lips, she groaned a little as she was being passed on to Dean, smiling as she snuggled her head in the crook of his arm. Dean looked two years younger again, holding his son for the very first time.

“Hey there Claire,” he whispered, smiling widely. “Hey there baby.” She was such a good girl for now. Her little mouth opened up slightly, her hands rubbing along her mouth. “You’re hungry, aren’t you? Let’s go ahead and get you a bottle, huh?” 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I guess that this is it guys. This was the last chapter to the story, the ending of Cas and Dean's tale. I hope that y'all enjoyed reading it.
> 
> My thanks go out to the few people that commented on the last two chapters - you guys rock! - and to everybody who read it, left their kudo's. Thank you to everybody who read this story, who commented and/or left a kudo.
> 
> A PDF version of this story will soon be made available on my [tumblr](http://bluetie-greeneyes.tumblr.com/). I made an 8tracks mix for the story, which can be found [here](http://8tracks.com/authors/you-fixed-me).


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